


Meet Your Storm

by ivanolix



Series: Storm-verse [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon - TV, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Kid Fic, Marriage, Parenthood, Season/Series 03, Wordcount: Over 50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for BSG Big Bang 2009. Exodus Pt. 2 AU. Leoben brought Kacey in to break Kara down, but when they manage to escape, Kara needs to take back control for them both. She comes back from New Caprica and the world's all different, and it's a struggle to find a place in the fleet—but Kara Thrace will fight her way to wherever she wants to be, and Sam will be on her side, no matter how long it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my beta karate0kat, without which this story would not be the same! Huge thanks also to my artist kj_svala, whose gorgeous talent gave this story its finished look!
> 
> Author's Introduction: I always thought that losing Kacey was what broke Kara the most thoroughly post-NC, by symbolizing for her the moment where she lost all control and gave in. When it seemed to be for a lie, she became unwilling to give in and accept help from anyone for a long, long time after. Considering the various traumas she'd already been through, though, there was no easy road. We saw which one the show had her go down; I wanted to see how slightly changed circumstances would give her different options and choices to make. I also wanted to explore the subjects of parenthood and trauma-recovery (especially for Kara, given her personality and background) in a way that the show, being action oriented, couldn't. That being said, I didn't think that a darkfic would serve justice to the characters; there are always a few bright moments even in the darkest of times.

** **

**Chapter 1**

Kara only killed Leoben five times because she needed to save the opportunities.

At the beginning it was just her first option for fighting back. The few hours he was gone gave her time to plan, to think through everything, to wonder when for the gods’ sake someone was going to get her out.

No one did. She couldn’t even sense it coming.

There was no one but Leoben in the house with her.

She missed the next couple opportunities to kill him, but when she finally did, it took him eight hours to come back. She had scoured every inch of the apartment by then, and knew there was nothing she could do to fill the hours. It was just free time.

She wasn’t sure if there was anyone in the rest of the complex either, since she couldn’t see or hear them. All she heard was the throbbing sound of her own heartbeat. In her throat, in her head, in her chest. For the first time in years, she was alone. It brought back too many memories.

Memories that sometimes she would be glad to face, rather than look at Leoben. She took the next opportunity a month later and killed him a third time.

But it was worse. She knew by now that Sam must be dead, even though Leoben had never said the words. What he did say was enough. And the Tyrols, the Tighs, any of the Caprican resistance—they must have followed on the deathlist as soon as they tried to revolt. And they must have. Anyone left now had collaborated, which meant she was alone.

As frakked up as it was, when Leoben came back it was better than being alone with only her heartbeat and the white walls and the memories.

She let it go another month and a half, but in the end she had to strike out. The momentary relief was almost worth it.

And yet she remembered then how quiet it was. Not just in this apartment, in this complex, on this planet that must hold only collaborators and dead friends. Galactica held no place ready for her, with an admiral confused and bitter as to why she left, and Hot Dog and Kat glad to see the back of her. Even Helo, even Sharon, hadn’t seen her for weeks before the attack, and she’d never known why. Maybe they’d just forgotten. She almost forgot them now, sometimes, with nothing to remind her.

Even if she escaped, there was nothing out there. The Pegasus crew resented what happened to Kendra, and with Lee and Dee in command, they wouldn’t be the only ones. In all the mess that New Caprica was, at least she had kept a few people close. Desperately close sometimes, when it still felt like the end of the world.

All she had now was Leoben. It was a cruel and vicious relief, but for weeks she kept him alive just so she wouldn’t have to endure the absence of everything. It was just another way to break, but she made her choice. She wouldn’t let him touch her, unless it was to draw near enough for her to strike back. She couldn’t rely on him for that.

But his presence couldn’t hold back the pressures of solitude, of standing alone against a universe that had nothing for her. It was only a month before she had to kill him again.

And then he brought Kacey. Kara wanted to vomit, feeling that every mental violation over the past months was nothing to this. Nothing.

Until Kacey was lying, real, on the floor. As Kara sat in the hospital and took her hand, she could feel almost giddy with the relief. A warm hand, human contact once again, even if it was not the kind she’d been looking for. She couldn’t focus on anything but that. The pit in her stomach from being separate had become normal to her, only now it felt bottomless, and Kacey was a safe choice to fill it.

If Leoben was just gone, Kara could connect with this scrap of humanity. At least with Kacey she was not alone. Somehow she sensed that Kacey had been alone with Leoben too, and if nothing else, she should stay close so that would never happen again.

Kacey was all the humanity Kara could trust in the moment. Nothing else mattered. But outside of all of it, they were still forgotten and alone. It was starting to become an accepted fact.

ooo

The sixth time she killed Leoben, she didn’t stop to relish the blood draining from his body. She knew it had to be a dream. Sam (he was dead) and Kacey (newest prisoner in this house-shaped dungeon), and just the right time for Leoben to die (he was too careful a strategist). All her vain hopeless dreams mixed together in some strange conglomerate, and she knew it couldn’t be true.

She clenched her jaw, grabbed Kacey close to her, and ran up the stairs. “I’ll explain later,” she said to Sam as he pointed the way. There was no giving up without a fight in her dreams.

She squinted at the first fresh air she’d felt in months, blue-grey sky above and Kacey like a charm in her arms as Sam pointed her to their Raptor. Of course it would be a Raptor, just like she would know in her dreams. The stumbling refugees around her, the gunshots, the Vipers zipping overhead—it was just enough chaos to be realistic. Kacey didn’t make a sound as they settled in the ship, being piloted up towards Galactica because of course it would be Galactica there to rescue them.

Any moment now she’d wake, a cold soulless body would be lying on the floor with her knife in it, and a warm soulless one would be there to wake her. She knew that.

Halfway to the ship—and she realized that hell was gone and she wasn’t alone. She’d escaped. Leoben might be letting her stretch her wings before clipping them again—but Galactica loomed ahead, and that was the finish line. For one unsure minute she kept her arms locked safely around Kacey, Sam sitting next to her, and waited for the ship to land.

Galactica smelled like home as soon as the Raptor hatch opened, and Kara’s worries fell apart into dust that scattered on the metaphorical wind. She was free. That aching joy on seeing Sam’s face after believing him dead—the ache was gone, and she was home, and she fulfilled her promise, and Leoben had lied and all those months of despair were laid to rest for this one shining moment.

Everyone was there, everyone she had forgotten to miss. She stepped off the steep Raptor side, reaching up to help Kacey down. As the little girl stretched her arms to Kara, Kara smiled, and Kacey leapt into her arms. Kara held her close, savoring the satisfaction that was not going to be taken away from her. She’d saved Kacey. She’d saved herself.

She laughed, because it was the strangest dream to come true and she could remember irony now.

“Oh my gods. Captain!”

She turned, knowing that voice even if the name was almost foreign to her. She grinned, because there was Chief who had been dead to her in hell, but now stood warm and breathing.

Tyrol walked over to her, eyes wide in surprise and relief. “I thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” she admitted, breathing out with relief even as she smiled.

Chief seemed to shake his head, notice things more clearly. “Hey, who’s this?” he asked, indicating Kacey.

“Yeah, I was about to ask that myself,” came Sam’s voice from behind her head.

She was still smiling, and glanced down for a second to remind herself. “This is—Kacey,” she said, pausing in the middle. The memory hit her, as suddenly that was real too, her daughter. And then her smile fixed, as she looked at Chief’s still-questioning eyes and tried to find the words. When the first one was “cylon”, she tried not to stiffen, but it was like a cold hand reaching around her heart.

All she saw in Chief’s face was the man who had killed cylons, and suddenly the world around him was different from the one she remembered. She didn’t kill cylons now, she was protecting one—and her field of vision only showed faces of those who’d curse at the very name. Her arms tightened around Kacey, and she wasn’t ready to explain. “This is Kacey,” she said again.

Tyrol didn’t have anything to expect, and so he nodded, smiling as he turned back to organize the other refugees. To him, Kacey was just a child. She wasn’t the enemy like this, but Kara remembered her revulsion and fear of only a few days before, the belief that this was a thing, a horrifying experiment of the machines that found new ways to violate life. All for this child, this child that she was bound to now by more than just an apology.

“Kara?” Sam’s voice sounded behind her head again, and she remembered him. Remembered letting slip Kacey’s secret, because he’d known all her others.

She couldn’t guess what he’d say now, and she feared she knew what the mob around would hear. “I need to get out of here,” she muttered, feeling the crush of a world she didn’t know how to deal with. Kacey clinging around her neck, she pushed against the crowd.

The crowd wasn’t moving that way, they were moving past her and toward Adama. She started to feel the press of people, too many people, too many questions, and she was ready to strike out when she felt Sam push in front of her. She’d forgotten him again—he’d been nothing more than a face in her mind for so long, a face she’d been certain she’d never see again.

No one got in his way, and she followed closely in his tracks, hoping to all the gods he wouldn’t try to ask questions until—she didn’t know when.

The crowds broke, and Kara headed out of the hangar bay. Towards where, she didn’t know at first. But not the CIC, not the brig, not the head, and not even the pilots' quarters or lounge. No one was anywhere now, but soon they’d be spreading, and she needed time to think. The easiest option was officers' quarters, married quarters, what might have been hers and Sam’s if they’d stayed on the ship back when this all began.

Behind her, the crowds started chanting, “Adama, Adama, Adama, Adama.” She couldn’t think with that.

With most of the ship having left long ago, the first quarters Kara saw were unoccupied. Sam was close on her heel, his confused questions lingering in his wisely chosen silence. She spun open the hatch, turned in, and as soon as Sam followed she closed it behind them.

Suddenly it was quiet. Suddenly she was alone with her thoughts, but with Kacey, with Sam.

Kacey was heavy in her arms, so she sat on the bed, no sheets or blankets just a mattress. She let her arms relax. Kacey sat down on her lap, turning to look around this strange room. Kara breathed out—for now, this worked.

“Hey.” Sam, worried and confused, moved towards her. “Kara, what is it?” he asked, dropping to a knee so that he looked up into her face. His hand came out, a gentle touch on her knee.

Kara didn’t think, she just flinched. Automatic, because she hadn’t let Leoben push the boundary, and yet— And yet she didn’t feel Sam when he touched her, she felt a cylon who wouldn’t die for good; undead flesh.

The confusion and hurt showed immediately in Sam’s eyes, but he withdrew his hand, worry becoming more prominent again. Frustration started to build in her, because there was too much to explain and she wasn’t ready. She hated chaos, but it came anyway. And any moment now—

“Kara, what is it?” he asked.

There it was, the question. Her hand clenched into a fist as she tried to reclaim the joy of only a few minutes before. This was Sam, this was her escape, a promise fulfilled. This was safe, right?

She heard Sam sigh, and she looked up to him. “If I ask again, are you going to tell me?” he asked.

He was just looking for her limits. She didn’t know she’d need them, but somehow she hadn’t left everything behind in that hell. A little nausea rolled in her stomach, probably from that knock to the head that vaguely throbbed now. He knew too much, or just enough. “Remember that farm, Sam?”

She looked up. She could meet his eyes like this, just giving the facts. He nodded slowly.

“They took something from me,” she said, each word coming with more difficulty. Why did it sound worse like this, more chilling? “Leoben took—he took my ovary, and he made Kacey with it.” That was the truth that he might have been able to guess. She breathed out again. “And then he stole a year of her life.”

She’d said it.

She saw Sam swallow as he looked at Kacey, bouncing on the mattress next to where Kara sat. He looked back, meeting her eyes. “And?”

In that moment Kara didn’t know where the tension came from, or how much there was, or why now—but she couldn’t hold onto it, and it vanished and left her feeling empty. “And I don’t know what the frak I’m going to do,” she said honestly.

She’d never thought to have a plan after the escape. She’d never thought what she’d have to explain, what reactions she’d have to face, and how she was going to live. Now, here, she just didn’t frakking know. It was almost worse than having no ability to carry plans through.

Sam didn’t know either as he glanced down then, thinking. And looking back up, “Kara, you got knocked out—before anything, we should get you to Doc Cottle.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head even though it hurt. Not doctors. “Frak no, I do not need that. I’m fine.”

She was surprised when Sam didn’t push the point, but he looked to Kacey. “What about her,” he said, pointing to her bandage.

Remembering why she didn’t like doctors, she flinched again. Doctors talked to her mother, doctors asked her how her fingers were broken, doctors asked how Kacey had been left alone long enough to fall down the stairs. “She’s fine. Simon and Leoben saw to that.”

The words came out before she thought, and she saw Sam react to them. The cylons again, everywhere, and she couldn’t remember the time when they weren’t a part of her life. Sam had noticed—but what he thought she couldn’t tell. Her old self was a strong memory now, and her old skepticism came back with a frown.

The sound of her words repeating in her head prompted her. “Maybe that was what we were supposed to think.” She really had let herself be duped, falling into this pattern of giving unearned trust just so she could live with something. Looking back, it was starting to frighten her. “Maybe they did something to us, to me, when I wasn’t awake to notice. Maybe Leoben knew I’d escape, maybe we’re just some godsfrakking time bombs, but if I don’t even know the answers I can’t just go to Cottle and face his godsdamned questions.”

“Kara, no one’s going to ask—”

She bit back before he could finish, her own bitterness at her utter stupidity hitting her full force. “Aren’t they, Sam?” She always had a hard time getting her thoughts into words, but now she didn’t even have time to find her thoughts before she spoke. “I’m supposed to be her mother—don’t you think the first thing Cottle will think is how she can’t be yours?” Sam’s face was before her, raw and unsure. “How do I explain that? How do you think the president reacts at another half-cylon?”

Sam swallowed, still trying to have the answers. “Kara, she’s just a child,” he said quietly.

“So was Hera,” Kara said, now remembering. “You weren’t there—you—” You didn’t listen to your friend in tears, believing her child murdered for no other reason— “You may have a big soft spot where your heart should be, Sam, but don’t think you can speak for everyone. The cylons killed and tortured us, and anything that’s been touched by them is the enemy. Including Kacey,” she finished harshly. The truth she’d recognized by the Raptor only minutes before.

Sam didn’t move for a minute, stunned into silence. “Is that what you think of her?” he asked pointedly, looking her in the eye.

“Isn’t it what you should think, after all that resistance?” Kara countered. What was he thinking? Why didn’t he just make it clear? Why all this listening crap?

“Damn it, Kara,” Sam said, shaking his head, frustration fully showing. He looked back up, though, words coming out quick and passionate. “I don’t know what I think either, but if she’s half cylon she’s half human too, so she at least deserves half a chance.”

There was a moment where the words just hung there.

Kara’s head hurt, and she put a hand to her eyes as if to brush the pain away. “Yeah,” she said. She looked him in the eye, and that almost hurt too. “But the world’s frakked up, Sam.”

“Always was,” he said, keeping her gaze.

It felt good to hear that, something blunt and true. “It’s frakked up different now,” she couldn’t help but add.

Kacey bounced towards Kara on the bed, grabbing her arm. “Kara,” she said lightly.

Kara, distracted and uptight, turned to her. “What, Kace?” The little girl just looked up at her, not quite smiling but looking expectant as she hugged Kara’s arm. Unsure, Kara turned back to Sam. “Sharon was one thing, Sam. But there’s not room in the world for more cylon influence—not now. And I’m not part of that world. I can’t be.” Yet. Maybe. For far too many reasons than she could say now.

Sam nodded his head once, and she didn’t know if he understood or not. When had he ever wanted cylons? It was all she’d lived and breathed for months, and willing or not she hadn’t fought as much as she could have. She could have died to beat the cylons once and for all. She could have left Kacey and Leoben’s lies right there.

No, frak that, she thought. “I don’t know, or care, if I made the right decision,” she said sharply, looking straight at Sam. “But I’m not letting them kill Kacey, or run tests, or lock her in the brig until she gets approved. I’m not even letting them know. So you are either in this, or you are out.” The last word came out with more power than she thought she put in, and the implication struck her a second later.

Sam was right there, though. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Hey, Kara, look at me.” His hand went unconsciously to her, but her body barely had time to tense before he realized it, pulling his hand back and keeping his distance. He looked up at her face anyway. “I am on your side. I am always on your side.”

She nodded once, accepting it almost grimly.

“You can relax here, no one’s coming to make you choose anything,” he said again, voice soft. “At least, not for now.” He glanced around, standing up. “Are you going to stay?”

Stay here and hide, he meant. Kara looked once to Kacey, bored as she held onto Kara’s arm and pressed her face against the tattoo. The only safe thing to do was hide for now, wait for everything to calm down. She nodded. “We need to keep low.”

Sam nodded, breathing out as he brought his hands to his face. “I’ll talk to them, see if we can get this cabin for good,” he said. Then, with a sigh, “It’s as good a place as any on this ship, but someday they’re going to know.”

Kara shook her head shortly. “No, she’s just a kid. She’s just a kid that I saved.”

Sam looked like he was going to say something, then he just closed his mouth in a firm line, nodding again. “I’ll be back later, then.”

With that he was gone, the hatch closing behind him.

Kara rubbed at her eyes, trying to will her headache away. The fear for Kacey’s life, first from the hands of the cylons, now from the humans she was supposed to call her own—it twisted her stomach into knots like nothing else. She didn’t know if she cared, she just felt some essential urge. Kacey must stay safe. She was still Kara’s connection to humanity.

And frak, she wasn’t even paying attention to her. Kacey had grown bored, and was inching towards the edge of the bed. “Hey,” Kara said, then Kacey slipped to the floor. She landed on her feet, walking towards the hatch.

“Uh-uh,” Kara said, getting up and walking over to scoop up Kacey. Kacey reached back over Kara’s shoulder for the hatch, a pleading whine in her eyes. Kara sighed through a firm jaw. What was she doing? “You can’t go out, Kacey,” she said, as if that explained everything.

When Kara sat down Kacey scooted from her lap. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she pouted and poked at the pillow on the bed. “Yes, that,” Kara said, grabbing onto the first thought that made sense in this confusion. “Naptime for you.”

“No,” Kacey protested, one of the few words she used, squirming away.

Kara murmured something in the back of her throat, not knowing what the frak she was doing other than keeping Kacey from attracting attention or getting off the bed. “Now, Kace,” she said firmly.

Kacey looked apprehensive, rejecting the idea with more than just childish energy. Kara hadn’t forgotten what they’d just been through, she just didn’t know what that meant. “Fine,” she muttered. The sooner Kacey was asleep, the safer and easier it would be. “Head, pillow,” she explained, pointing at the object. Kacey lay down, but with her eye on Kara the whole time. Kara remembered how this worked at least, and she lay back next to Kacey. The girl reached out to grab her hand, pulling it to her chest as she curled up on the bed.

Kara sighed, closing her eyes for a second. She was nobody’s mother. She could do this, but she was no mother. Never was, and she hadn’t made her decision yet, but she might still never be.

ooo

Sam left Kara’s new quarters more confused than he had entered. The moment he found Kara alive, he knew things had been rough, and he wasn’t so idealistic as to think that they’d get better all in an instant.

But Kacey. Gods, that changed everything. Knowing Kara’s views on children, and looking in her eyes now and seeing the conflict—something was wrong here. Half-cylon, what did that even mean? In general and for Kacey in particular? It disturbed him, and he didn’t think it was all projection of his own issues to see Kara’s uncertainty too.

Kacey was hers, though. Her responsibility, if nothing else. Sam understood, both the why and the reason it stuck. Kara was true to her own. Even though she had pushed him away now, it hadn’t been for good. Things were a mess, and even though Kacey was the biggest part of it, the superficial needs had to come first.

The celebration in the hangar bay was ending, Galactica crew-members and former crew-members were finding space among the myriads of empty corridors, as others waited for shuttles to take them to their home ships. Sam looked for someone to be in charge, but it was as if the people were choosing for themselves.

“Sam,” called Galen’s voice behind him.

“Hey,” said Sam, turning around.

“Looking for something?” the Chief asked curiously, the weary look on his face fading for a second. “Where’s Kara?”

“Actually, I’m looking for the person in charge of quartering,” said Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing out. “Kara needs one of the unclaimed officer’s quarters.”

Galen looked surprised, but he nodded. “I can probably get that checked out with Harbinson. You two okay?”

“Ah,” Sam began, but left it hanging.

“What was that about that kid she brought back?” Galen asked.

“Her parents died on the planet, and she ended up with Kara,” Sam explained, the lies coming too smoothly from his mouth for his taste. This was for Kara, though.

Galen nodded darkly. “Nothing new. There’s an orphanage being set up on one of the ships. Need me to get you the name of the person in charge?”

Sam shook his head, but wondered about the option. “I think Kara’s dealing with this for now.”

“So yeah,” Chief said, finishing. “I’ll make sure you get the quarters. Shouldn’t be a problem, it’s like it’s almost free game now.”

“Thanks, Galen,” Sam said. That was the first task, and it went smoother than he imagined. But he had to stop and think of what people like Galen would think. That he and his wife needed a place to stay, especially if his wife was looking after some orphan kid. Kara wasn’t at peace yet, so did she even want him coming near? Was this just for Kacey? He couldn’t just assume she even wanted him there, if she couldn’t even bear his touch.

It chilled him, all the reasons that might be. And he wished he’d gotten to Leoben first in that disturbing doll house, slammed a dozen bullets in him.

Shaking the thought from his head, knowing that worry could come later, he tried to put his mind to another task. Food. Blankets. Clothes and fresh bandages for Kacey, if Kara didn’t trust Doc Cottle yet.

The decks were a chaos, and Sam had only spent a few weeks here to begin with. He got lost several times as he wandered, looking for what he needed, and trying not to think too hard on what things still lay unaddressed.

By the time he had everything, it was hours later, and he was exhausted from the rescue and aftermath of this very long day. Finding his way back to the quarters Kara had chosen, he slowly spun the hatch open. No sound came from inside, which wasn’t surprising as soon as he walked in. Kara lay on her side on the bed, almost curled around Kacey. The girl had bed head, as if she’d been sleeping for a while, but now she sat up, playing with the ends of Kara’s hair.

Kara slept. She didn’t move as Sam closed the hatch, and that was a good thing. It had been a long day for her most of all, and she needed rest. He set down the food and the blankets. Kacey looked up at him, big eyes, Kara’s hair in her hands. At the slight pull, Kara barely stirred.

“Hey,” Sam said in a low voice, walking over. “Let’s not touch that, okay?”

Kacey dropped the hair immediately, but pulled a little closer to Kara, almost nudging her.

Sam tried to bend lower, more to her level. He didn’t want to scare her, whatever else he thought of her. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Kara needed her sleep, and so Sam put out an arm to Kacey.

Kacey eyed him for a second, putting a thumb to her mouth to chew. Then, hesitantly, she offered out her other arm. Sam accepted the invitation, carefully scooping her up in his arms without disturbing Kara. Kacey didn’t hold onto him, but she didn’t make noise or pull away either.

Looking around, Sam saw the small couch in the room. He sat down, letting Kacey sit on his lap. She looked around, appearing drowsy. Sam felt tense, tired as he was, and figured that it was that he remained unsure of exactly what he made of Kacey. He tried to relax, watching the child as she turned to look at him.

“Kara sleep?” she whispered.

He nodded, trying not to seem wary. He really didn’t know what to do with her—even normal kids were far from his field of knowledge. That thought reminded him of Isis, the little girl he’d been charged to keep. The protection he’d provided hadn’t worked, and he felt a pang of that failure. Looking at Kacey, he thought he knew why Kara so needed her to be safe and alive. It didn’t matter what she was other than a child. He softened, though just a little because he still couldn’t go that far.

Kacey was staring at him, almost disconcertingly. She didn’t speak much, he’d noticed. So he was surprised when she whispered again. “Daddy?”

He stiffened. Did he tell her that Leoben was her father? No, that was wrong—she was Kara’s child, Kara’s legacy. He wouldn’t be the first to let her know the truth too uncomfortable for a child, that to some people that cylon part of her would matter more. It had almost mattered to him for a split second after Kara said it, the sick feeling in his stomach taking precedent over what he could see with his eyes and heart. “Not really,” he said in answer, voice low but not quite a whisper. “As if you understand that,” he added.

She just looked at him, nothing to do and not tired enough to sleep.

“Here,” he said, pulling at the string around his neck. Kara’s dogtag, the only one she had now. His talisman in the months of darkness.

Kacey grabbed it eagerly, something she could play with even for a little while.

“Just don’t eat it,” he added, and that was a little lame but he didn’t know what else to say.

Kacey started wrapping the string around her fingers, and Sam looked across the room to Kara. His brow furrowed, and he wondered what would happen when this interlude ended. Kacey was just a kid to all eyes, and the implications that troubled Kara wouldn’t matter in an orphanage where they didn’t know. Sam didn’t know if Kara had anything in mind, but he hoped that Chief’s offer would be an option for escape.

They had supposedly made it free off New Caprica, but Sam had a gut feeling that it had been little more than an illusion.


	2. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Kara woke, and her hand found nothing in the bed beside her. Sitting up, Kacey was gone. Whipping her head around to look through the room, no one was there. Panic immediately sent adrenaline to her veins, and it seemed like her first guess was right. It had just been a dream, and this was just another trick of Leoben.

But even if he’d imitated Galactica, where was Kacey? She got out of the bed, noting the blankets and packets of food on the table. “Kacey?” she called, voice wavering. “Kacey honey, where are you?”

Her hand was on the hatch when it spun, and she stepped back. It opened, and there was Sam, holding Kacey’s hand as she walked, other thumb in her mouth.

Kara’s heart still raced, but she breathed in deeply.

“What is it?” Sam asked, instantly worried.

She shook her head, trying to calm down. How could she doubt this so easily? Her panic twisted into something stale, and she didn’t want to be this, didn’t want to be jittery and spooked. Kacey walked to her, putting up her arms. Kara just picked her up silently, and walked over to the couch.

“She had to go to the head,” Sam explained, even as Kara said nothing.

“Don’t do that again,” Kara said under her breath.

Sam nodded, then paused for a second. Kara closed her eyes and then opened them again. Everything was still there. Maybe this time it would stick in her mind that it was real. Sam stopped hesitating and sat next to her on the couch, waiting silently.

“If you want me to have an answer, I don’t,” Kara said. How could she, not having a moment to really think? And now that it might be here, she didn’t know where to look for a start.

“You don’t have to have one yet,” Sam said, and sighed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what I have to have, or when,” Kara muttered. Kacey slid off her lap, toddling over to the table and pulling something from it.

“Everything’s being reorganized in the Fleet right now,” Sam said. “It’s all complicated, and I don’t think anyone knows exactly where they are right now.”

“I know where I am, Sam,” Kara said. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kacey walked back over to Kara, holding up the object in her hand. Kara switched her attention to the child again with a sigh, looking at it. It was her dogtag that she’d given to Sam years ago now, still on that bit of lanyard. Sometimes she wondered if it stood for more to him than the tattoos that had seemed such a giddy foolish idea even at the time.

Kara nodded to Kacey, who climbed up onto the couch between Kara and Sam, playing with the string because there was nothing else. And yet it was Kara who had nothing to do. What did it matter what she did later, when she didn’t know what to do now? Somehow she had to put a life together, and if the pieces were the ones in front of her, it was frightening.

She had forgotten how to be married to Sam. It had become so routine on New Caprica, only to be wiped away piece by piece. Now that Leoben was wrong and Sam was alive, and had been all those weeks without her, Kara didn’t know how to jump back in.

No, she knew how to do it. It just chilled her to think of it, to think of pretending that nothing had changed. Something had, and she couldn’t articulate it just yet, but she knew that in this moment she was no one’s wife. And no one’s mother. Yet those were all the options she seemed to see.

“Sam, I didn’t choose this for us,” she said, meaning the room.

“I figured that,” she heard him say. Kacey was in between them, as was too symbolic of everything in her mind. He’d be an idiot not to notice the way she flinched away from him, she knew. Still, she didn’t like to hear the resignation in his voice.

“What am I supposed to do with her?” she asked, then realized that she’d said it out loud.

“Kara,” Sam started, as if he had something to offer. “I talked to Galen earlier, and when I told him that Kacey was a child you’d rescued, he mentioned something. There are a lot of children whose parents didn’t make it, and a place is being organized on one of the ships. No questions asked, just a refuge for those who don’t have homes.”

The words made sense, but the implication slammed into her. “So I should just give Kacey up?” she asked.

“It’s always your choice,” Sam said. “But if you don’t feel like she has a family here...”

Kara felt as if something inside had stabbed her. She stared ahead. “I tell her that she has no mother, then.”

She heard Sam turn towards her, and decided to look at him. “I know this may not be what you want to hear,” he said, looking her in the eye, “but Kacey lived the first part of her life without you. You don’t need to feel—”

“As if I’m abandoning her,” Kara cut in, knowing exactly what this sounded like. Sam paused. “And what am I abandoning her for, Sam?”

Sam dropped his gaze for a second, gathering his thoughts. “You didn’t ask for this,” he said, looking back up. “Not everyone needs to be a mother, and whatever else is going on, Kacey needs someone who wants her.”

“And I don’t,” Kara added his conclusion, bitterly. She heard his words, knew what they meant, even if she didn’t know what they meant to her.

“I didn’t say that,” he said, voice gentle. “But you need to know who you are.”

Kacey walked up to her, holding foil-wrapped crackers. Kara stood up, opening the package and walking towards the table and chair. She hated Sam, not for being right, but for being it at the worst time. Setting the unwrapped crackers down on the table hard enough that one cracked, she looked back to him. “I am not my mother.”

She could see him back off in that second.

“And I am not my father,” she added.

All those scars, in her mind and on her body, and she could still see herself inflicting them on others. She felt bile in her mouth, hatred of herself and the self that Sam seemed to see. The self that could let a situation, any situation, make her leave a child parentless in a dangerous world.

Kacey still looked up at her with big eyes, expecting her food. The chair would be too tall for her.

“Here,” Kara murmured, sitting down hard, then taking a deep breath and holding out her hands for Kacey. She picked her up, set her on her lap, and she just sat as Kacey started to eat.

Even as she defied the impulse she feared, she had to address it. “What do you think would happen to her there anyway? When she gets ill, and Cottle sees the difference in her blood?”

Sam rose from the couch coming over. “I’m sorry, Kara, I wasn’t thinking.”

Kara nodded, swallowing. “There is only one person who I know won’t care.” If that didn’t make the decision obvious, she didn’t know what could. Leave aside loyalty, if you could—she wasn’t in the habit of putting children in danger.

“And me,” Sam said. She was grateful that he stood where she could see him, know that it was his presence and not the one that had lingered just out of her sight so often. “Listen, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to push anything, I just wanted to let you know about the option.”

“Well, it’s not an option, okay?” Kara said, but even if Kacey wasn’t so close she couldn’t have kept her tone hard.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I get that now.”

She closed her eyes for a second, rubbing at them with the hand that wasn’t resting around Kacey’s waist. She hadn’t realized how raw Leoben had worn her, how every word or touch felt like an attack, a strategy. This was what she seemed to be, a soldier. But Kacey wasn’t. Kacey’s war was over, and she didn’t need a soldier. Kara breathed out, trying to remember what escape meant.

“Everything’s settled for this,” Sam said a few seconds later. “There’s no contention about the room.”

Kara nodded. “Thanks, Sam,” she said. The words still came out a little clipped, but they meant something. She opened her eyes to see him dip his head, acknowledging.

“Do you want to go see what’s going on, maybe get your things or something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Today’s a mess on its own without going into the thick of it.”

“An understatement,” Sam said, a weary but ironic smile on his face.

Kara’s smile held a little more bitterness, but it soothed her all the same. Anything that said she wasn’t alone, and any reprieve she could grab for herself.

“So I’ll go round stuff up, then,” Sam said, exhaling and running a hand through his hair.

She nodded as he left, the hatch closing behind him. Just knowing things were momentarily stable made the quiet seem less oppressive. She could last for a little longer without knowing who she was, as long as she knew who she wasn’t.

She looked at the clock—it was only this morning that things had changed, and now it was nearly night. Kacey finished her cracker, and looked up at her, waiting for something. Kara almost wished the child would talk more, but in this case it wasn’t necessary.

“You’re a mess,” she said aloud, seeing the smudges on face and hands. “And that’s not good for that,” she added, pointing to her bandage. Kacey might not understand her words, but the more she said what she was doing, the more she might know why and what next.

They would be in this cabin for a while; she might as well start acting like it. Holding Kacey in one arm, she stood up and grabbed the blanket and the jug of water from the pile of things that Sam had brought. She couldn’t waste the bandages as a washcloth, but the corner of the blanket would be fine.

Breathing out slowly, she started to take care of the child she wouldn’t abandon.

ooo

Sam walked the halls of Galactica, and they weren’t his home. He’d gone down to the hangar deck in search of food, water, and basic supplies. Refugees without ships were camped out there, and he thought he saw Helo directing the setting of barriers, but he didn’t feel like talking.

He supposed his life was set out pretty straight for now. He was war-weary, and, he realized, heart-weary too. It was very clear that Kara hadn’t come back the same, and he was too worn to figure that out right now. All he could do was listen, and ease whatever tensions he could. What he really needed, maybe, was a time to refresh his mind.

That might be more difficult, with two to look after. He hadn’t expected that. And he felt like an idiot for almost turning it into the implication that she was no different from her parents. Ever since he saw Kara alive, all he’d wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss away all the creases of fear and hardened will to just survive. He felt self-centered for not realizing that it hadn’t been the same for her.

So now he was making it up, as much as he could. He’d be her extra set of hands, getting her what she needed, getting what clothes he could find for Kacey, getting Kara’s things out of Galactica’s storage. He’d just be there—because as much as he had wanted to do more, he had a feeling he’d just screw it up. Neither of them were ready for anything but survival and rest.

The one good thing that hit him was how different it felt to be inside ship’s walls. The hum of machinery, the warmth of both heaters and thousands of bodies in close quarters, the soft even lighting, and the smooth metal under his feet. Just as New Caprica helped him forget the horrors on Caprica, so now even the hated closeness of ships let his mind drift away from the torment he’d left on the latest godsforsaken planet.

“Sam,” Sharon said to him, as she walked down the halls in her pilot’s uniform. She paused, looking at him. “I heard you got back safe with Starbuck.”

“Yeah, I found her,” said Sam, fighting the urge to complicate his answer with deeper truths. “Thanks for that.”

“What’s this?” Sharon seemed to suddenly see the bucket of things in his arms.

“One of the Leobens had her locked up in some kind of house,” Sam explained with a slight sigh. “Kara was with this little kid, Kacey, I don’t know for how long. But now that we’re back, she’s trying to make a place for Kacey to be safe.”

Sharon blinked. “Wait, Starbuck brought back a kid?”

Sam grimaced. “It’s not like that. It’s—it’s all messed up. But the kid needs a family, and Kara’s all she has.”

“Wow,” said Sharon, but her face was serious. “So she’s just going to adopt her? Starbuck?”

Sam shrugged, and really did sigh. “You know, I’m not putting any bets on anything. But right now Kacey’s all she can handle.”

Sharon nodded, a graver look coming to her. “Sam,” she said, “be careful. The Leobens—they’re not like the rest of the cylons. If one really did have her for all that time, it wasn’t your usual war camp.”

“No, I figured that out,” Sam said. He hadn’t articulated it like that, though, and he felt that cold worry start to run through him.

“I probably shouldn’t stop by where you’re staying then,” Sharon said after a pause.

“I wouldn’t,” Sam advised honestly.

Sharon nodded. “Take care, you.” She walked off down the corridor, leaving Sam alone.

Something about what she said, her different perspective, almost had Sam’s mind working and thinking again. But only almost. He was tired, and he just wanted to go to a home to a warm bed and sleep. That wasn’t happening, for many reasons, but the specifics didn’t matter so much.

The bucket of supplies growing heavy in his arms, he finished his trek back to the room where he and Kara moved gingerly around a child that changed everything.

ooo

Kacey wasn’t as clingy here as she had been on New Caprica. Kara dealt with what had to be done, the putting away of the meager supplies they had for the moment, and it grated on her that it was still more than she had done in months. Kacey toddled around, the dogtag hanging around her neck, a bit of cracker dissolving in her palm as she didn’t eat it. She didn’t cling, but she was always there.

The comfort Kara took from their safety only counted for so much. The security of the room counted for more, as did the presence of the Galactica herself. If only she could have the Viper controls beneath her hands again...she only realized how much she regretted leaving that behind now that she was back in the thick of things.

She sat down on the couch, looking around because there wasn’t anything else to do. Kacey climbed up next to her, sitting on her lap without a word.

Kara fingered the dogtag around the child’s neck. It didn’t jar, seeing her promise to return in such a place. But it reminded her that she only had one promise—and now, she didn’t even have the matching piece.

Kacey objected to Kara touching her one toy, and pulled it back. The paste of the cracker smeared all over the dogtag, and Kara grimaced.

“Kacey,” she admonished, pulling the dogtag back and wiping the paste from it. No one was looking and she didn’t care, so she wiped her finger on the side of the couch.

“Kara,” Kacey responded, putting her hand up to Kara’s face.

“Agh,” Kara said, not the happiest about getting more cracker paste on her face. Kacey slid off her knees as Kara stood up to get the makeshift washrag, sitting on her boot and hugging her leg as Kara walked across the room. Kara shook her head, wiping off her face and Kacey’s hand alike. “Are you just bored or what?” she asked with a sigh.

Kacey just hugged her leg.

Kara shook her leg a little. “I’m not a climbing pole, kid,” she said, feeling oddly unfrustrated. Kacey let go a little, and Kara sat down, crosslegged on the floor. What were you supposed to do with kids, anyway? Babies cried, so that was simple. Surely older kids were supposed to entertain themselves, but there was nothing for Kacey to do. But what was older anyway? Kacey couldn’t be more than a year or so, but she looked pretty big.

Kara sighed again, but this time it was more frustrated. Kacey just sat on the floor, gripping the dogtag and its string in a little round fist, and looking to Kara as if she would have all the answers. Only a couple more hours and Kacey would be ready for bed, but Kara had no idea what she was going to do with her. Couldn’t she just get in trouble or something, so Kara could stop her?

The hatch opened, and Sam came in, a big bucket in his hands. He looked more tired than Kacey.

“Gods, Sam, did you steal half the ship?” she asked, the words coming out without thinking.

“Borrowed,” amended Sam, but she noticed a little lessening of the tiredness on his face.

She stood up and came over, first looking in the bucket, then taking it. More supplies, that was good. “Thanks,” she added after a second.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, sitting down on the couch and leaning back with a sigh.

Kara pulled out the food first, glad to see some actual protein bars. Not cuisine, but they had more flavor than crackers. Next, some worn but kid-sized clothes, enough for a couple days’ rotation. One shirt was too big for Kacey, but could probably work as a nightshirt. There was a little spot of blood on Kacey’s current jacket; Kara wanted to get that off as soon as possible.

But under that, and past some towels and a few dishes, she saw things she recognized. Her pictures. Her clothes. Military things that she’d left behind with the new start on the planet. There was her other dogtag, its chain jingling as she picked it up. Only a moment’s hesitation, and then she put it on silently.

A little ragdoll had made its way down the side of the bucket, and Kara picked it up. “Hey, Kace, this is for you,” she said.

Kacey hurried over, taking the doll with silent interest.

Kara also found two plastic Viper figurines. They almost looked like the models in CIC, but not quite. She half-smiled, and then put them down on the floor for Kacey, once she got tired of the doll.

Then she put away all her things again. She thought she wouldn’t want to be reminded of them, but at this moment it was almost the best thing that had happened that day. Even just putting them into the closed compartments in these quarters felt good.

She grabbed the nightshirt and sat down again on the floor. Kacey had found the toy Vipers, and the little ragdoll was riding one in circles. “Kara,” she explained, holding out the Viper and its ‘pilot’.

It was a silly thing, and so Kara didn’t spoil it by explaining ‘not really anymore’. Ragdolls could fly Vipers, but not Kara. She’d left that behind, and it wasn’t calling her back. It wouldn’t, not the way she’d have to live now.

But she’d lived a year and a half without it, and what she wanted didn’t matter so much as what she needed. She didn’t need Vipers now; Kacey needed her. Kacey needed her at the moment, apparently, as a landing bay for her Viper. Kara just sat, watching and not sure what she felt. Somewhere behind her Sam sat on the couch, just as silent, not taking part in what he’d brought.

Kara didn’t realize she’d tuned out until she saw Kacey’s head droop, only for her to pick it back up again quickly. Then it drooped again, bouncing back up a second later. It was definitely late now, she saw as she glanced to the clock.

“Bedtime,” she said, taking the Viper from Kacey and putting it on the floor next to the other toys. Kacey yawned wide as Kara unzipped her jacket, stripping the clothes that smelled of little kid activity. Or, Kara assumed that’s what it was.

“Potty,” murmured Kacey as the nightshirt slipped over her head.

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” said Kara. She stood up, putting down her hand. Kacey just leaned against her leg, tired. Sighing, Kara leaned down and picked her up. “Come on.” Kacey leaned her head on Kara’s shoulder.

Kara opened the hatch. Everything was as quiet as late night watch had always been. No one was in the corridor as she walked with Kacey to the head. The little girl woke up just enough to sit on the toilet and pee, and then put up her hands for Kara to carry her back.

The yawning and sleepy eyes barely lasted until she got back to their quarters. She closed the hatch, glad that this day was almost over. Sam had fallen asleep on the couch, his brow still furrowed. Yet another thing she wouldn’t have to deal with again this day.

Kacey was heavy with sleep as Kara put her into the big bed, but not enough that she would sleep alone. She grabbed for Kara as the blanket was tucked around her, and Kara climbed over her to lie with her back against the wall, one hand resting on Kacey’s. As before, the security was enough, and Kacey was out like a light.

Kara wasn’t tired. She watched Kacey sleep and wondered what it meant for her. She only had a couple days before a real life had to start, a real life in which she had to do something to help the fleet. Kacey was a necessary priority, but no one would let her be the only one. But Kara didn’t know what that meant.

The fleet was on the run from the cylons, or fighting them, depending on who you talked to. Was Kara just going to live? Let others run, let others fight? It didn’t even sound good in her mind.

She didn’t want to be a mother. Then Sam’s words on that came back to her, and they bit less now. Still...she needed Kacey to be safe. It would be easier to escape that, but she couldn’t. Maybe it meant she was messed up, but frak, she’d known that forever.

She’d deal with tomorrow the same way she’d dealt with today. No hoping about it—she just would.


	3. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kara woke for the second time without Kacey in the bed, but this time it was obvious. Kacey was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, ramming the Viper into the table leg with little thunking sounds. Kara didn’t panic, but her first thought was, ‘good gods, she could just walk out of here.’ Sam had slept all night on the couch, apparently. He sprawled across it, sound asleep. Thank the gods Kacey hadn’t thought about opening the hatch, since nothing and no one would have been in her way.

Kara sat up, pushing her hair from her face. Gods, she needed a shower. For a moment it felt good to have such mundane concerns, such simple peace. The cylons didn’t have her, and they hadn’t found the fleet in the night. Kara wasn’t even on call if they did. She could wake up in the morning and live, and think about her cleanliness.

The moment was good, but the idea of Kacey pushed it away. Kara glanced over to Sam. The option was there, wake him and ask him to watch Kacey until she got back. She would have done it if he was already awake, but she didn’t want to be that active. Out of all the complications in her life, she really didn’t want to think about her marriage. It had been put on hold already, against her will. She wasn’t ready to use her will to break the hold.

“Time to go,” murmured Kara to Kacey. She grabbed a towel and some cleanish clothes, holding out her hand for Kacey to take. Almost, she was ready to give her ‘frak you’ face to the Fleet. Kacey was just a kid, and there was no reason to think they’d discover the secret. She’d just have to face the wondering faces.

Sleep gave Kara plenty of strength today, and she really needed that shower. Settling her jaw, she opened the hatch and walked out of the room, Kacey holding onto her hand.

Her gaze settled into a glare halfway down the first corridor, but she didn’t notice until later. Plenty of people up and around at this time; plenty of people to double-take at the sight. Kara could glare away most of the stares in a couple seconds. Once in the shower room, she glanced about and then had Kacey sit on the bench just beyond the shower. She handed her the towel.

“Hold this, and don’t go anywhere, okay?” Kara said, giving her a firm look.

She quickly stripped, and turned the water on. Showers on New Caprica had never heated beyond lukewarm, so she relished the few seconds of truly warm water here. It streamed down her face, plastering her hair to her neck and back. Before it had quite gone back to the usual cool, she ran a quick rag over herself, letting the sweat and grime twist down the drain. There was even a little crusted blood that she’d missed, maybe for days now.

A couple people noticed Kacey swinging her legs off the bench, and more seemed to make the connection when Kara walked back for her towel. She scowled as she pulled on the fresh clothes, which stuck a little to her still-damp skin. “Time to go,” she said to Kacey under her breath.

Kacey held her hand as they walked back to their quarters, and Kara’s stomach started to rumble. Her jaw still set, she decided that this was not impossible.

Then she opened the hatch to her quarters, and Sam was up. Kacey was still the child she didn’t know what to do with for a whole day. And the ease she’d felt when she thought she was in control of this life...just faded. She wasn’t upset yet, but she felt the edge come closer.

Sam nodded, sitting at the table. There were two plates, neither in front of him. “I thought you’d be back.”

Kara saw the ‘breakfast’ first, protein bars and a weak reconstituted milk. Sam’s words were nondescript, neutral. She glanced to his face, needing to know what the absence meant. It offered little. There was a hardness in his face, a lessening of patience that, knowing him, was probably temporary. Patience with the rest of the world anyway, she guessed. Apprehension and thoughtfulness covered it all, too.

“Hungry?” she asked, looking down at Kacey. She hoped to the gods that Sam wouldn’t take this moment to start talking. The day had been going much better than she could have imagined, but she could feel that any words and it would all fall apart.

She sat in the chair, Kacey on her lap, and didn’t look Sam in the eye again.

“I’m going to go check up on the ship,” he said, standing and exhaling. He had to move past her to go to the hatch, but there was none of the closeness that he’d always used before. She was still on edge, not to be touched, not until she knew what he wanted and what she wanted. “I’ll see what needs doing.”

Kara nodded once, but didn’t turn her head. “Right. I’ll probably do that too.”

“Sounds good,” he said from behind her head. Then the hatch opened, and closed, and life was simpler for her again. For a moment.

Finishing breakfast was easy. Seeing that Kacey needed to get dressed next was also easy. But the simplicity ended as soon as Kara realized they’d need to go out the hatch.

Kacey lifted up her arms as Kara indicated that it was time to go.

“You’re too heavy to carry all day,” Kara told her. “And you can walk fine on your own.” Kara realized she was frowning as soon as Kacey’s face looked unsure. She tried a half smile. “Come on, you’ll be fine.” Just, please, make this a little easier.

Kacey wanted to be held, that was clear, but she figured things out just fine. One thumb in her mouth, one fist hanging on to the bottom of Kara’s jacket, she all but hugged her as Kara closed the hatch behind them and started walking down the halls.

She didn’t see anyone she knew before finding Captain Harbinson, frazzled as he directed the upheaval in conditions.

“Why aren’t you reporting to the pilots, Captain?” he asked her, barely a glance her way.

“I’m not a pilot anymore,” Kara said. “And I can’t go back anyway.” Her gaze pointed to Kacey pretty directly.

Harbinson, a heavy-set man only a little taller than Kara, paused and his mouth slacked a little. “Damn kids are all over this ship now,” he muttered, but avoided looking Kara in the face.

Kara’s jaw clenched. “Well?”

 “Well, that all has to be figured out yet,” Harbinson said tightly. “There’s thousands of people back, all used to jobs that won’t work any more, and some unable to do the jobs that are required without some reshuffling. So I’ll put you on the list, and I’ll get back to you when I have something. Godsdamn it.”

He turned away then.

Kara felt a sort of dark pleasure in being ignored for once. That, and the way her complexities were summed up in some sharp sentences. It made her frustrated, but this was a frustration she could understand. Ignoring the beginnings of an urge to say something pithy at the man, she went on to the next thing she thought of.

“It’s pretty simple, Captain,” said Lt. Gerner in charge of food stores. She seemed to recognize Kara, giving her the slightly cautious tone that Kara’s past reputation called for. “Right now everyone shows up here, gets served three days’ worth of rations.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” said Kara, waving her hand to get to the point. “But I’m—going to need more than that.” Again, she glanced down to Kacey, who was kicking her boot.

Gerner’s eyebrows rose. “We’ve got a system for that too,” she said, trying to recover from momentary disorientation. She sat at a kind of desk, and reached around to find a clipboard. “Put down the details of your dependents here, and then take a pass.”

Jaw firm, Kara did. It was strange, unreal. She’d always eaten with the pilots before, and on New Caprica there had been markets. This...made her feel like a civilian begging for military assistance.

Leaving with her pass and Kacey in hand, she paused in one of the corridors, not knowing where she was going. Kacey tugged on her jacket, and said: “Water.” Thank the gods for Kacey—in a way. On her way to the mess hall, she passed a few people who recognized her. No one talked, but they stared. The unreal started to feel more uncomfortable, and Kara felt an itching desire to say frak to them all and disappear. Who were they to stare?

“Starbuck.”

Kara glanced up, gaze tight until she saw that it was Margaret Edmonson. “Maggie,” she said. ‘Racetrack’ was a name for the pilot’s lounge, or the Viper comm.

“You haven’t put your name on the pilot’s rotation yet,” Maggie said, arms loosely crossed. “You okay?”

It was the question of someone who just needed the knowledge. “Haven’t been a pilot in over a year now,” Kara pointed out.

“That’s true of a few folks,” Maggie continued. “We can’t fill all our Vipers anymore, and even if we could, you’re still the best, year off or not.”

Kara gave a dangerous little smile. She’d play with this idea, sure, since Maggie was pushing. “Yeah, serve under Katraine as CAG...not happening, Mags.”

Maggie didn’t get the hint, not that she usually did. “Kat’s not going to be CAG long, it’ll be Adama.”

That surprised Kara. She paused. “Lee?”

“After the Pegasus,” Maggie said, nodding.

Kara’s jaw clenched for a moment. Somehow the whole Lee situation hadn’t raised its head for her in a while, and now that it did, it wasn’t comfortable. Serving under Kat would have been humiliation, but serving under a CAG who hated her...she hadn’t wanted to lash out before, but the pressures were building and she felt them.

“Sorry, Maggie,” she said, through her tight jaw. “Not my place anymore. You did fine without my sorry ass for a year, you can just learn to grow up and deal with it now too.”

Maggie frowned.

“Kara, water,” said Kacey, pulling on her hand.

“Yeah, we’re done here, Kace,” Kara muttered, this time picking her up and putting her on her hip.

Maggie blinked. “She yours?”

“My responsibility, and she isn’t going anywhere near a cockpit,” Kara said shortly. “Look for Viper jocks somewhere else, Maggie, I’m busy enough.”

“Right, Kara, I got it,” said Maggie, a bit of sharpness in her tone.

Kara was fed up with it all. They all wanted her to be something—first Lee, then Leoben, and now the whole frakking ship. “Come on, it’s almost lunch anyways,” she said under her breath to Kacey. Kacey wanted her to be something too, but it was—simple. She’d allowed Kacey to make demands because Kacey had no other option, that was different.

Back to her quarters she went. After giving Kacey some water in an old tin mug, her stomach growled, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten breakfast, four hours ago now. She avoided the protein bars and crackers, finding some stale grain in the stores. Pulling down the stove in these quarters, she poured some water into her one pan. Kacey was doing something behind her back, but Kara focused on the water, watching as the tendrils of steam started curling around the edges of the pan. It reminded her of New Caprica—her and Sam, living in a tent, stupidly peaceful in a colonial life.

A few minutes later, the water was bubbling, and she poured the dried grains in, stirring as they started to cook. Kacey came up by her side and grunted, reaching for the cupboard with the food.

“Wait for lunch,” Kara told her. _You wouldn’t let your own child starve. _Leoben’s words came out of the blue, and she flinched. She saw the apartment again, stove not quite like this one but close enough. Gripping the spoon tight, she poured her tension into the boiling pan. She did not need to be reminded of this.

Happy little family. The thought came unbidden to her head, and she let go of the spoon. The grains were starting to swell with the boiling water, their skins almost bursting. Was this what was happening to her? Was she breaking, turning inside out to become Leoben’s housewife?

The steam was rising in her face, and she needed to breathe. She walked away from the stove a few steps, leaning one hand on the table. Frak Leoben. She was taking care of his mess, but it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t. He’d wanted to mess with her, push her to rebel, to break. He used symbols against her, and as much as they rang true, she didn’t want them to. He wasn’t here, so she could almost see clearly. He wanted her to rebel, and she wasn’t going to. She was going to do what was right, and for the moment, that was eating a hot meal.

Trying to push his face out of her mind once and for all, she smelled something starting to scorch. She turned around swiftly.

Kacey was right by the stove, reaching up for the pan handle. Kara saw the raging boil of the water sending a cloud of steam, could almost feel the heat of the pan, and Leoben had won again.

“Kacey, no!” she called out, sharp with panic. She moved over quickly, fear twisting in her stomach as she realized Leoben had tricked her again. Had almost gotten her to hurt Kacey again in her desire to run away from him. She grabbed Kacey’s hand, pulling it down, bending so she was looking in Kacey’s face. “You don’t touch that,” she said harshly. “Do you want to get burned? You don’t. Do. That.”

Kacey twisted away from her, eyes big, and Kara realized she was still gripping Kacey’s hand. She breathed in sharply, letting Kacey go. She wasn’t burned. But Kacey pulled back, not quite tearing up, getting as far from Kara as she could.

The fear, the anger at herself—but all she saw was an upset child. A child she’d upset. “It’s o—” she started, as Kacey crawled under the table with her doll. Kara breathed in again, so sharply it was almost a sob.  
_  
‘I’m not mad at you, Kara, you just need to listen.’_

_‘No, Mama.’ She’d just hide here, safe under the table._

Choking back something, Kara turned away. Leoben hadn’t won. Her mother had. If she could have found words, she would have told Kacey to stay under that table. Stay there forever, stay safe, safe from Kara.

The food started to burn. Kara reached out for the pan handle, moving it from the heat before she realized it really was hot. A bright red mark striped her hand, and she choked again. This was all wrong, this was a mistake. Her hand shook as she found the cold water, soothing the light welt, and she heard the mantra she’d so often told herself. Mama was just mad, Mama’s had a tough life, Mama can’t deal with this right now.

She put the cool rag to her hand, not daring to look back at the table as she walked over to the couch. Sitting down, her world crashed. She hadn’t thought; she’d fallen for the idea of making something real out of all this mess. All she’d made was a mess. She’d hurt Kacey, not physically, but it didn’t take much to—

The hatch opened, and she realized her head was resting in her good hand. She looked up, and Sam walked in, and in the moment where she couldn’t trust herself she knew that this was what he was for.

“You okay?” he asked with concern, seeing her sitting down, a broken look on her face, rag around her hand like a bandage.

She stood, walking over to him. “Sam,” she said, low voice, barely looking in his eyes. “I need you to take Kacey to that orphanage right now, before I change my mind.”

“Kara—” he started to ask.

“No, don’t waste time,” she said, feeling this moment of resolve. “If you don’t do this now, I’m going to slip, and I won’t be able to let you do it.”

“What is this?” he asked, putting down the bag in his hand and closing the hatch behind him.

Frustrated and heart beating fast, Kara turned away, walking back towards the couch. “It’s not that hard to understand,” she said, turning back to look at him. “I’m a screw-up, turning into my mother—and I can’t do this, and I was an idiot for trying.”

“Whoa, Kara, stop it,” Sam said, surprised but firm as he walked over to her. “You are not your mother,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. “And you are not a screw-up.”

She hated that look. “I yelled at Kacey,” she said, looking back anyway, challenging him. “She almost burned herself, and I felt—anger. And I almost lost it. After one day.” She breathed in quickly, “There’s only once place for me, and that’s risking my own ass in diehard stupid attempts to fly.”

Sam paused, looking at her more closely. “Kara, did you hit her?” he asked cautiously.

She glanced away for a second, then shook her head shortly, keeping her voice quiet. “It doesn’t start with hitting.”

“It doesn’t start like this either,” Sam said, and before Kara could look up he was at her side. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me that your mother regretted what she did. Do you think she spent even one minute thinking that maybe she didn’t deserve you? Or that she was wrong to think she was doing you a frakking favor?” His voice was starting to rise, his words coming out saturated with emotion. “You. Are. Not. Your mother. And I can’t believe I have to say this, but you are not a screw-up either. You get that?”

He stopped, but she couldn’t look up his eyes again. He was the one who didn’t get it, and she didn’t want to have to explain that. “Sam, you can look at me and say that,” she said, bitterly, “but that doesn’t change that this isn’t something I should do. If I hurt Kacey, I am never going to forgive myself.”

“Any more than you’ll forgive yourself for abandoning her like this?” Sam added, tone calmed a little.

“Frak you,” she snapped, turning away. Angry at him now as well as herself, she walked away. Wrong again, she couldn’t even trust him to fulfill a little request. Grabbing the now-cool pan, she started scraping the scorched food, the burnt smell filling her nostrils and biting at the back of her throat.

“No, Kara—” Sam said, following her over.

“Back off,” she said, pushing him away as she gave him a sharp look. “You don’t want to help, fine, I can do it myself.”

She heard him breathe out, upset at something. “Come on, let’s sit down, okay?” he asked in a calmer but urgent voice.

“What, and talk?” she demanded, turning to look at him. “That is the least good thing right now, and I thought you were smart enough to figure that out.”

“No, you know what?” Sam said, becoming passionate again, stepping a little closer again. “I’m smart enough to know when you don’t know what you want.”

She glared up into his eyes, saw frustration that could easily be anger at something.

“You could have gone and taken Kacey yourself, but you didn’t,” he continued, pointing toward the hatch with his hand as his eyes didn’t leave her. “You knew you couldn’t do it. Well Kara? I’m not going to hurt you for you, if you can’t do it yourself.”

She paused. “So we’re going to talk this through, Sam? Find the perfect answer? Because it doesn’t exist, and if I just accept that now and go for something, I won’t waste my time on a search that just means more pain.”

“No, we’re not going to find a perfect answer,” said Sam pointedly. “But it’s got a bastard cousin that might work, just not the split-second type.”

Kara’s glare faded. She almost appreciated the ridiculousness, the tightness in the back of her throat threatening to turn into a painful laugh. Her eyes started to burn, though. “Sam, it’s not going to work,” she said, looking up at him. He was close again, and for the first time she wasn’t itching to flinch if he touched her. “It doesn’t work the same way.”

He just looked at her, trying to understand. The lump in her throat turned bitter. “And if you don’t go, and take Kacey with you, I’m just going hurt you both.”

She put her hand out, touching his arm as if ready to push it away. He breathed out, looking down for a second. Then he brought his other hand up to touch her shoulder. She felt herself lean into it a little. It was warm, and just there, and it might be the last time she’d feel it like that.

“Kara!” Kacey’s little voice called up to her, clear and content.

She and Sam both glanced down.

Sam looked up. “You didn’t hurt her, Kara,” he said softly. She opened her mouth, but he continued, nodding. “You are a mess.” His mouth formed a small tight smile. “We’re all a mess. So whatever you want to do, if you’re doing it because you think there’s a safe happy place—there’s not.”

Kara stood, then moved, sitting heavily in a chair. “So what then?” she asked with a sigh. Lost, with resolve fallen into uncertainty again. Kacey sat at her feet, everything forgotten as she played with her toys.

Sam took the seat closest, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knees. Her arm rested on the table, and he laid his hand gently on hers. She didn’t move.

Closing her eyes for a second, she could feel the fear and anger at herself underneath the surface. But they weren’t strong enough. “Don’t go yet,” she said quietly.

Sam didn’t.


	4. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam hadn’t done much that morning, just met the same dead ends that Kara had and confirmed previous conclusions. His team, or what was left of it, settled down pretty well. It was maybe easier for them, and him. They’d known resistance before, and how to deal with it.

“Sam, there’s something I could use your help with,” Jean had said. “It’s a government project, but you’re on the top of the list.”

Sam had shaken his head. “Sorry, Jean, I don’t know what I’ll have time for.”

“Yeah, heard about that mess,” Jean had said, more dryly than anything else.

Sam had forgotten it by the time he walked back into the quarters that he and Kara still shared. He didn’t see Kacey at first, but seeing Kara was enough. He didn’t stop to admit that maybe it was out of his league the moment she started talking. All he knew was what she had told him, drunk some nights, sober others, cradled by the anonymizing dark of New Caprica.

He didn’t realize how frustrated and confused he was until she didn’t shove him away again, just put a hand on his arm. She let it stay there, and the touch released emotion he’d kept locked up for her sake. He finally seemed to find his mind again, and he kept the connection as they sat down.

“Don’t go yet,” she said quietly.

He had never planned to. He didn’t always believe her words, not when he saw so much more underneath.

She was looking down at her lap, brow deeply wrinkled.

“You’re afraid,” Sam said after a moment, quietly.

He didn’t know what she’d do, but if she paused, he could hardly tell. “Not afraid—fear’s for uncertainty,” she said. “I can see where this is all going, but I don’t know how to stop it, and—”

And it scared her. She didn’t need to admit it.

Sam breathed out slowly, thinking. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t backfire on him. “About two things.”

Kara looked up, furrowed brow turning into a slightly confused frown.

“You shouldn’t try to do this,” he said. “I mean, you could—nothing’s impossible. But just ‘cause you can...”

Kara seemed to fidget again, and Sam continued quickly. “You were right about something else, too. We’re not the only ones who went through hell down there, and Kacey needs somebody. No, not somebody.” He glanced down at the child near Kara’s feet, apparently ignorant of what the adults were talking about. “She needs a family. Not just someone to watch her back and keep her fed. She needs love and security, just like us all.”

“Way to state the obvious, Sam,” Kara said, but not completely bitter.

“I’m getting there,” Sam said, and he almost smiled ironically to himself.

He’d met Racetrack on the way back from checking on Jean. She’d asked about Kara, if there was any chance at all she’d be a pilot again. Sam had given a rough explanation, but Racetrack didn’t seem to hear.

“We’ve got all those birds from Pegasus, but some of our good pilots were lost on New Caprica,” Racetrack had said, looking slightly past him. “Frakking toasters—I wouldn’t give Adama a chance to interrogate them if I saw one now.”

Sam had wondered if she’d think twice about Kacey, and realized then that this was what Kara had been worried about to begin with. Surely she wouldn’t, but they both knew how humanity could make mistakes because of emotion.

But though he understood now why Kacey had to stay with Kara, that wasn’t what he was remembering. “Racetrack said you told her off when she asked if you’d go back to flying.”

Kara glanced up, not expecting that subject change. “I told you a while ago that I wasn’t flying again—I didn’t say it lightly.”

“No, probably not,” said Sam. He looked her in the eye. “But you just said that the only place you think you belong is in a Viper, and I think you meant that too.”

Kara just stared at him for a second, and he knew he’d guessed well. “Can’t fly with Kacey,” she said, shaking her head.

Sam knew that answer was coming, but he didn’t have a response yet. He started down this path of conversation, and he thought there was an end. Just a few more moments, and he might see it.

ooo

Kara couldn’t tell what Sam was at yet. She thought—it had seemed like he recognized what needed to happen, but after all his words about abandonment only a few minutes before, was he really saying that she should get back in the cockpit? Fly long hours and leave Kacey alone for most of the day or hand her off to some random stranger?

But looking at him, Sam didn’t look like he knew for sure what he was saying. He was pausing, running over something in his head. Kara had already said that she didn’t think there was an answer; for now, she was almost morbidly curious about what he had.

“Look,” he finally said, and Kara did. “You’re afraid what you might do to Kacey if you stay like this.” He glanced once around the room. “But you think she needs you, and I’m starting to think you’re right about that.”

Kara didn’t like hearing the words like that—too clear, too much to the point, and she didn’t like all that they said. “Stop teasing the point,” she said. “Are you thinking out loud, or do you have something to say?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, looking up at her with clearer eyes. “Go back to your Vipers and be happy, and I’ll stay here with Kacey.”

“What?” Kara felt stunned, and once again she hadn’t predicted this.

“You can still be here for Kacey,” Sam explained. “But maybe you’re not ready for it all yet, and I think you feel guilty for wanting to fly again. You love it, Kara, you don’t need to deny it. And I—I want to help you with that. I’ll take care of Kacey while you’re off on CAP, and she’ll be here whenever you get back, and you can be with her then. She can’t ask for more than that.”

Kara sat, hearing the words, waiting for them to sink in. “You’ll—” She couldn’t finish it with anything.

“I’ll be Kacey’s father,” Sam said quietly.

Hearing those words clearly, Kara wondered if Sam knew how they would pierce right to her heart. She could feel that they were good words. Needed words.

She frowned, though, shaking her head a little as if to shake loose the flaws in what she’d just heard. “What are you talking about? How is this supposed to work?”

“You fly again, fight the cylons,” said Sam. He paused, the flash of a grimace going across his face. “The war’s over for me, but maybe you need something like that. I—I can get that. I’ll find something simple to do, something I can do and watch Kacey. And when you get back when you do, Kacey can have her family.” He finished, looking back straight into her eyes, waiting for an answer this time.

“That’s it?” she asked, worried that it wasn’t.

“That’s all I’ve got,” Sam said, as if admitting it.

Kara swallowed. She felt the yearning for the stars again that she’d wanted to suppress. She felt the need to, somehow, do the right thing for Kacey. Did she trust Sam with that? Did she trust this plan that seemed far too simple?

Sam had been right, Kara couldn’t let other people do things for her. Maybe she should have trusted her gut and just run away. Before she could be seduced back with this almost-solution, before she could betray Sam’s trust, Kacey’s trust, everything. Her heartbeat picked up just a bit.

She hadn’t realized she’d looked away until she felt Sam squeeze her hand a little.

“I’m not saying you should,” Sam said, sighing. “Kara, I said before I wanted to give you options. That’s all. You can go, tell Racetrack you want your bunk back, and never come back here. I’d make sure Kacey’s taken care of. You can go, and then come back and tell me to get the frak out. You can change the rules, whatever.” He glanced down, and back up again. “Just don’t drive yourself crazy thinking everyone’s against you and you’re trapped, okay? Do what you need to do.”

Need. Right. Kara didn’t nod, but she knew what was meant.

“I need something,” she muttered, pushing her chair back and standing up. Air, time, whatever. Sam pulled his hand back, nodding.

She looked down once more at Kacey, who was focused entirely on her play, and walked to the hatch, opened it, and closed it behind her. She breathed out and started to walk.

Everything was supposed to be free. No decisions made, no responsibilities she couldn’t delegate somehow, no set-in-stone obstacles to anything with everything in flux. So why didn’t she feel it?

She walked the halls of Galactica. Sam had offered her the life she’d once had, but the nostalgia wasn’t there as much as it should be. Things were different, she hadn’t denied. Different enough that she couldn’t feel comfortable in her old skin. She wanted it, and yet she didn’t. It would be a lie to try to be that person again.

That settled, she still didn’t know what she did want. But if she kept hating herself for that, maybe things would be too late. She didn’t have want, but she did have need. Part of that was that she was a soldier who needed a war, for now.

The difficult attracted her more than she sometimes admitted. Setting her jaw, she turned around the last corner on a path that she hadn’t realized she’d chosen until she was at its end. She walked past Hot Dog, walked past Sharon, and into the pilots’ ready room.

Lee stood there in his uniform, and he didn’t look like the man she remembered, but even as her heart threatened to beat faster she ignored it. Looking past his face and seeing only the CAG, she walked straight up to him. He was surprised, she could see.

“Still need pilots, sir?” she asked crisply, staring him in the face.

He couldn’t answer at first. Her momentary discomfort at making this decision was melding into her rising determination, and she stood without hesitation.

“We—ah—yes,” said Lee finally, tearing his eyes away from her and down to the clipboard he held. “If you think you can handle it after all this time.”

His voice was cool, just as hers was steady. “The fleet needs a top pilot, and I’m ready to call.”

“Need your old bunk back?” Lee asked, a hint of ice in his tone.

“No,” she answered smoothly. “I’ll be on—family call.” Lee lost the cool for a moment, but Kara didn’t wait. “If that’s settled, then.”

“I’m sure the fleet will be interested in your return, Captain Thrace,” Lee said, his words very deliberate.

“Still don’t care about them,” Kara answered, a parting shot as she made ready to leave. Frustration and regret were threatening the calm and the cool they mimicked, and she didn’t need any of that. “I’ll be in my quarters until called to duty then, sir.” She snapped off a salute, even with no submission in her eyes.

Lee returned the salute shortly, but his face was conflicted.

Kara made herself not care, and turned and left, walking past the pilots who were in a way her fellows once again.

Just get me in a bird, she thought. I can do that. And Kacey, Kacey would get what Kara had promised: safety. If Kara couldn’t do all the giving yet, Sam would fill the gap. He always had, Kara knew.

ooo

Sam didn’t let Kara see how his heart sunk the moment she closed the hatch. He couldn’t explain to her just how much he trusted her, but he also understood Kara’s full meaning when she’d told him that things didn’t work the same way anymore.

He sat at the table, resting his elbow on it, putting his other hand up to his face. Kara had left, and if she didn’t come back he’d have lost everything. Looking down at Kacey, he remembered that they’d both be lost.

It could be just you and me, he thought, but wouldn’t say aloud. Actually, no matter what way things went, it’d almost be that. He’d decided that he could do that for Kara’s sake after only a couple minutes. Now, he needed to accept it as reality.

Him and Kacey. Him and a kid that wasn’t his except by choice. He’d given up on all those thoughts long before, maybe even before he’d married Kara. Now they were just a new challenge.

He turned from the table, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees. Some luck in the universe made it so that Kacey felt no worry. He watched the simple concentration and interest filling her face and tried to find some of it for himself. He just watched her.

A few minutes later, and she looked up from her toys. She looked around, frowning, finally turning to face him with slight discomfort. “Kara?”

“She’ll be back,” he said, nodding as reassuringly as he could. For both their sakes, he had to be convincing. As Kacey started to feel the worry that gripped him, he found something within himself, and smiled at her. “Hi.”

She half-smiled back.

“I’m Sam,” he said, just to fill the silence, turn the tone.

She had nothing to say to him, but she only turned away because her attention was drawn that way. She was a quiet kid—that would make it easier, Sam thought.

Easier to do what, he didn’t exactly know. His brow furrowed a little as he tried to visualize what he hoped he’d signed up for. What would he do with Kacey? What kind of role could he play in this fleet where he could fulfill his promise of being with her? Pyramid was of no use, and no more resistance leaders were required. He thought of all the lives lost on New Caprica, officers who’d fought because they hadn’t been trained to run and hide. They were the kind of men the fleet still needed.

As he was lost in thought, Kacey didn’t seem to realize that he wasn’t actually looking at her. Looking up at him a few minutes later, she held up her Viper, a little reserved. “You?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, taking the toy.

She smiled shyly, and held up the other one in her hand.

“D’you like that?” he asked, just to say something.

She flew it straight up at his face with an attempt at a whooshing sound.

He dodged it with his, ‘flying’ it back at her straight into her stomach. “Gotcha,” he said with a little smile.

She smiled for real that time, and poked his knee with the Viper.

Maybe he wasn’t totally lost. It was a welcome feeling after all those months, doing something he both could and should do. Just wait a little longer, and he could figure out the rest too.

He may have lost track of time again, the Viper forgotten in his hand. Kacey had crawled under the table in search of something, and when she came out, she held up the old rag doll that he’d found abandoned on his search for supplies.

“Nice,” he said, nodding.

She smiled to herself, looking down.

Then, they both looked up as the hatch opened.

Sam’s heart clenched, then leaped, as he saw Kara walk in. She brushed back a piece of hair behind one ear, and he saw her face then. Set. Solid. Not afraid, though.

“Think you can make this work, Sam?” she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I do,” he answered, sitting up straight.

“I’m going to go get my uniform then,” she said.

“Kara!” called Kacey, running up to her. “Back.”

“Yeah, I’m back,” she said quietly, brushing a hand through Kacey’s curls as the child hugged her leg.

Sam wasn’t sure what exactly had been decided, but he knew enough. “I’ll get my side going, then,” he said.

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded.

ooo

It was late when Kara came back, fresh tanks and dress blues to add to her small stores. Sam had rummaged up a kind of dinner for Kacey while Kara was gone, and though she didn’t pay him much mind, Sam started to see more in the child.

He wondered how long she’d been held by the cylons before Leoben had brought her to Kara. He wondered how many people she’d seen in her lifetime. He wondered at how she could act as if there wasn’t still a large bandage taped to her forehead. He wondered if he knew how to give her as normal a life as she needed. He wondered if she needed what he thought was a normal life.

But Kara came back, and she hadn’t changed her mind, and silently they shifted roles. This would be the way things worked.

Sam left the quarters in search of his role. Harbinson was scarcely less testy than earlier in the day, but this time he had a better answer. “I’m not dealing with military issues.”

Sam walked away, but wondering how helpful that was. He wasn’t joining the military, sure, but as he’d realized before it was where his talents had been most used. And it didn’t necessarily call for only soldiers.

It wasn’t hard to find Captain Borgen, one of the men he’d known who’d survived New Caprica.

“Anders,” the man acknowledged. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Didn’t expect to be seen here,” Sam answered. “How are your people?”

Borgen looked around the marines’ gathering area, as if it might be obvious. No one was there at the moment. “Not good,” Borgen said. “We were the unspoken loss, more than anything.”

Sam nodded.

“You here for something?” Borgen asked.

“What are you going to do about it?” Sam asked, once again not exactly sure where his questions were going.

“I’ll have to recruit a whole batch of civilians, at least,” Borgen said, and didn’t look happy. “Why? You know some people? We could use some of your folks, some people who’re familiar with some of the basic principles.”

Sam shook his head slowly. “They’re not interested,” he said. Their war was over, like his should be. “But you’re going to need the right kind of people, or the right kind of training.”

Borgen looked up at him, a small light coming to his face. “You’d better be thinking about what you’re saying, Anders, because you know what idea is striking me?”

Sam could probably have guessed.

“This wasn’t what I was trained for,” Borgen said pointedly. “But it is what you trained yourself to do. Deal with civilians, make them soldiers. Who knows how many we’ll need, and learning by trial and error isn’t something we can afford. I couldn’t just use your advice, I could use you.”

“That’s pretty much what I was thinking,” Sam admitted. He breathed out, making yet another choice he hadn’t planned to make but felt he was ready for.

Borgen nodded his head twice. “Things are tricky, Anders, but necessity calls. I’ll see what I have tomorrow, and you can come in.”

“A civilian consultant, right?” Sam guessed. At Borgen’s nod, he continued. “Listen, Colin, I know this is out of the ordinary, but I need to know that this won’t be requiring all my energy.”

“Eh?” Borgen said, the grim kind of acceptance turning into pure confusion.

“Kara, my wife,” Sam said. “She’s a Viper pilot, and we’re taking care of a kid now. I’m going to need to stay with the kid as much as I can—it’ll be low key, though.”

Borgen breathed out, eyebrows rising a second. He looked up to Sam. “Out of the ordinary, yeah. But off the record, Anders...” Borgen paused and sighed. “We’re all glad to have escaped and all, but it’s back to the old grind, and this time we don’t really have much hope. Not to mention that we all got used to a different life for a while. Things aren’t as straight cut, and it’s all about making things work. So maybe this isn’t quite regulations, but I’m not going to stick to those so strongly anymore. You’ve got a kid—that’s a sign of hope. And if we’re going to restore a security force to this fleet, with the resources we have, I think hope’s going to be necessary.”

Sam gave him a mirthless grin. “Sure you need me after all? Those are good words, Colin.”

Borgen shrugged. “I’ll keep things organized, you do the leading, and we’ll get it done. Right?”

“Right,” Sam said. Borgen put out his hand, and Sam shook it.

“Now, you’ll need a uniform and all that goes with it,” Borgen said.

Sam nodded. He’d built a hand-picked team, he’d shaped a resistance with what was given to him, he’d inspired another. He wouldn’t have to think too hard on what he’d do here. He wasn’t ready for war, but security, preparation—he was ready to handle those.

ooo

Kara wasn’t fighting against anything as she got Kacey ready for bed again. She rearranged the bed so that Kacey slept closest to the wall, in case Kara was called for emergency CAP.

She didn’t have to think about dealing with Kacey tomorrow. Tomorrow she was a pilot, tomorrow she could give her demons to the stars. Kacey wasn’t hers alone to succeed or fail with. But Kara would be there. She would be back, and she would be the mother that hers was not. Little by little, she’d beat that.

Leoben had left her alone when she fell asleep at Kacey’s hospital bed back on the planet. He’d almost left them alone after they came “home”. Kara still wasn’t sure what he’d planned, only that he’d not planned well. She hated to feel that she might have given in with more time, but Leoben had waited too long. Kara was out of his reach now, and she wouldn’t even wait to see the whites of his eyes next time. And even if he hadn’t meant to force her to bond with him, with his delusions about family, he’d failed. She hadn’t broken and she hadn’t struck out wanting to hurt.

Kacey had been a weight around her neck, a need she didn’t want. But the weight had kept Kara’s feet on the floor. New Caprica was gone, with all the joys and terrors it had shown her, and the world was changed. But somehow Kara’s feet had found the floor, and that would have to be enough for now.

She didn’t want to think about anything else. Not Lee, not Sam, not what anything long-term might be. The lights were down and she was in bed, curled towards Kacey with her back to the hatch. She couldn’t sleep yet.

The hatch opened and she knew by the walk that it was Sam. She heard the clunk of the closing hatch, then he let something soft thunk on the table and she heard him walk to the couch and lie down. He let out one long breath, and then it was all silent. Silent and secure for now.

Kara didn’t notice that she was drifting asleep.


	5. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kara was up before her alarm, barely a yawn as she rolled alert from the bed. Kacey had rolled slightly away in the middle of the night, so she didn’t feel as Kara got up in the dark. By the time Kara reached the alarm about to go off, the darkness enveloped her, and she was alone on her mission.

Finding where she’d put new tanks and her dogtags before going to sleep, she left the darkness behind as she slipped out of the room. The hatch closed with a small click, and the halls of Galactica welcomed back their best pilot unattached.

Through clouds of steam, she walked back into the pilots’ locker room and found her old locker. She opened it, stuffed her day clothes in, and grabbed her suit.

She didn’t notice the people around her at first.

“Starbuck?” Apparently Maggie hadn’t heard the update yesterday.

“Unless the schedule’s changed, I don’t want to hear it,” Kara preemptively declared.

But as she stripped to shower off, there were faces she had known too well. Skeptical faces. Cold faces, even. After just a few minutes to let the water do its work, she was drying off and reaching for the leather that had never served her ill. It squeaked and cracked as she put it on, adjusting her stance to let it fit smoothly, pulling her long hair out of the way so that it wouldn’t get stuck as she attached all the buckles.

“Hey, Starbuck,” commented Hot Dog as he walked past.

She frowned, not sure if it was a challenge or a bold move or genuine. Genuine—ha. She’d seen the rest; she could guess what they thought.

The board had her name in its old place as she took the front center seat in the ready room, leaning back into its support. No luxury, these, but they felt like home.

Sharon took the spot next to her, giving her a curious eye, but definitely friendly. Kara had nothing to answer with, and then she didn’t have to, because Lee walked in.

His presence didn’t hit Kara as hard this time, especially when she didn’t see his face at first. Laxness had struck them all, but this? This she was not expecting from him. He looked half the man she’d known, figuratively, given that he was twice the man in physicality.

“Pilot rotations,” he began with a deep breath.

And Kara tried not to contemplate bitterness, just waited to hear her name.

ooo

Sam didn’t wake with a crick in his neck, which was something to be said for the officers’ couches. The lights had automatically started to brighten when it was “morning”, and he could look around. He closed his eyes, a little tired, figuring that Kara had already left. Then, just as he realized what that meant, he heard a barely-audible choking sound behind him. Sitting up with a bolt, remembering Kacey, he looked over to where she and Kara had slept.

Kara had in fact left. And Kacey sat curled up in the shallow dent Kara had left in the pathetic mattress, squeezing her doll to her chest, and rocking a little back and forth. Her eyes were wide, even for the low light, and now that he listened for it Sam heard hiccoughy breaths as if she’d been crying.

Sam, not knowing what else to do, was over there in a few seconds, saying what he hoped were soothing words under his breath. Poor kid, probably afraid she’d been left alone with the cylons again. He was hesitant on the edge of the bed, but then Kacey leaned over to put her arms out to him in a frantic gesture.

“Whoa, hey,” Sam said quietly, as Kacey wrapped her arms around him, her tear stained face pressing against his shirt. She had barely looked at him yesterday, but now this. Hesitantly, he put his arm securely around her, drawing up his leg to rest on the bed so she could sit on it. Almost to himself, he sighed softly, “We’re going to have to talk to mama about saying goodbye in the morning.”

Kacey looked up at him sharply.

“What?” he asked.

“Mama,” she whispered through the leftover tears.

“Yeah,” he said, confused a little himself. “Hey, you hungry?”

She stared at him for a moment, but then nodded, then turned her head and essentially wiped her nose on his sleeve.

Rubbing at his slightly tired eyes, Sam sighed and got up to get the day going. With Kacey.

ooo

Space whipped by her, but the stars didn’t move in Kara’s sight, unchanging as they were. In and out of the fleet, waiting for an attack that no one wanted, Kara almost laughed. She felt the push of engines, the pitch and yaw from every adjustment of the steering column, and she turned a barrel roll just because she could.

“Hey, cut that,” said Showboat across the channel, miffed.

Out here, it was just her and her ship, her and the Fleet, her and herself and the stars. Except for her wingman, but that didn’t count.

Landing was always a letdown, as she touched to ground and felt the imperfection on the deck. Space was so much simpler.

She hopped out the cockpit, the six hours of CAP now suddenly noticeable in the way her suit clung in all the wrong places, and she pulled off her helmet to find her hair messed up.

“Almost bingo fuel, Captain,” Chief commented, as they started wheeling her bird away.

Kara gave him a humorless grin; the comment was required, nothing more.

But then she looked up, saw Lee crossing the deck, his walk painfully unlike the confident stride of a much lighter man. Setting her face stubbornly, she looked down to remove her gloves until he was standing right there.

“Wasting tilium fuel with hotshot moves?”

She didn’t look up. “You had a year free of me, I thought a little indulgence would hardly tip the scales.”

“No, Kara, it was never okay,” he answered in admonition, emphasizing her name. “And if you’re still going to play as if anything’s allowed until you get caught, then you can say goodbye to seeing that cockpit again.”

She slapped her glove downward, looking up at him with hard eyes. “It’s not a game, CAG, sir,” she said, gritting out the last words.

“Well that’s new,” he answered in mock surprise, eyes burning into hers as he seemed to draw closer.

“Apparently you’re the last to learn that everything’s new, sir,” she said, passing close by his shoulder as she walked past to leave the hangar deck.

Hadn’t it been long enough for Lee? Or did he still expect an apology? He wasn’t getting it. Maybe once, but not now. There was so much more at stake, and she didn’t have it in her to accept the hurt. She would just wait for the day when he realized he wasn’t the only one who hurt, and then maybe they could pull what they once had back out of the ashes.

But though she might be his hotshot Viper pilot, her armor wasn’t impenetrable. A sharp pain in her chest, she skipped the post-CAP report that would be eventless anyway, and stripped out of her flight suit. Glancing at the schedule, she saw that she’d be on watch again this evening.

“Well, Starbuck,” came a crisp voice from behind her.

She smirked to herself before turning around. “Kat.” Her tone was insultingly nondescript by choice.

“Going to join us?” Kat asked, leaning her head towards the pilot’s lounge. Her eyes were tightly set on Kara’s, though, blistering with fire.

“Don’t think I want to bother you,” Kara snidely shot back.

“Oh wait, right, you don’t have a reason to come over that way,” Kat said, pretending at revelation. “You’re not bunking with us anymore, are you, Starbuck?”

Kara didn’t have to answer, and she didn’t have to glare either, but she did. Kat knew all the answers to her questions, and Kara saw a frustration and anger in her face that didn’t seem justified, even given their past. Kara didn’t care, she just noticed it.

“Must be nice, coming back to a great big cabin all your own, getting first dibs even though you’ve been gone for how long?” Kat seemed seething to say something else, but Kara hardly intended to wait around for it. She turned from the pilot schedule to walk past Kat.

“So,” Kat snapped out, quickly as Kara started to leave. “Who’d you have to give head to so that you could get a kid to cut ahead of us ordinary folk?”

Taking no time to think, Kara’s arm was cocked before she was half turned around, and she slammed her fist into Kat’s face. The angry pilot stumbled back against the wall, the crack of the blow loud in the small ready room.

Kara’s knuckles hurt, but she grinned as she shook them slightly. Again, she didn’t need to think. And she didn’t need to stay. She walked out of the chamber, kicking the hatch closed behind her.

So they all hated her, and they didn’t even know half the causes they should. Frak them.

It’d be many hours until the evening CAP, and she wasn’t going to wait it out back in her room. She found Chief, found the still, and sat back in a chair to down the sharp alcohol until her throat burned and her eyes blurred. Chief wouldn’t give her crap at least, and the pilots didn’t come down here if they couldn’t fit with the rest of the deck crew. Mostly Kara just watched as they played cards and drank on their breaks, but though her eyes were open, she wasn’t seeing.

Thoughts started teasing at the edge of her mind, and so she started going over everything she knew about Vipers. Just to know it, just to make sure it was such a part of her that it might be crammed in every one of her pores.

ooo

As he put on his new military clothes, Sam decided that he appreciated them. Functional, comfortable, and probably wouldn’t chafe. Like his old pyramid gear, except that had been high quality material; this design managed much the same result with much simpler ingredients.

Dressed, and tucking his brand new dogtags in between the two tanks, Sam stood up and glanced over to Kacey sitting at the table, propped up on a sofa cushion he’d added to the chair to make it her height.

His brow creased a little, seeing almost all her food still on her plate. He was supposed to meet with Borgen in a half an hour. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, walking over to check her plate.

She sat, hands in her lap, thumbs twiddling absently. “Want Mama,” she mumbled.

Sam sighed, sitting. “She’s not going to be back till tonight, okay?”

“Mama?” Kacey asked, looking up quickly at him.

“Yeah,” said Sam, wondering if he was missing something about how to communicate with kids. “She’s a pilot, flies Vipers,” he said, pointing to the toy next to her plate on the table.

“No,” Kacey said, face twisting in something that might have been disappointment. “No Kara. Want Mama.”

Sam’s brow really did crease then. “She’ll be back tonight.”

“Mama?”

Sam felt like sighing again in frustration. “Yes,” he said, repeating himself. “After she flies her Vipers.”

Kacey’s chin quivered. “No,” she said again, but her eyes welled with her protest.

Sam felt utterly baffled.

“Want Mama,” Kacey whispered through nearly-falling tears.

“You can’t,” was all Sam could say. “Look, it’ll be okay, it’ll be fine.”

But a fat tear dripped down Kacey’s cheek, and she looked down at her hands.

There was no particular reason Sam should have thought that Kacey would take to him immediately. She had seemed to like him a little, but her mind might have perceived him as a nice enough visitor. Running a hand through his hair as he exhaled, realizing he had a big mess to clean up here, he decided to go for broke.

“Hey, Kacey,” he said, leaning forward to be on her level. Her damp eyes looked up into his. “You know who I am?”

She stared blankly, then whispered, “Sam.”

“Good,” he said, the lightest of smiles on his face as he continued to look her in the eye. “And you know what I am? I am your—” the word didn’t come easily to him “—I’m your dad.”

His face scrunched a little, because he wasn’t sure he liked how the words came out. Kacey stared with even bigger eyes.

“Daddy?” she asked, a little confused but interested.

“That’s me,” he said, putting on a smile for her sake. “So things are going to be good, okay? We’re going to eat breakfast, and go for a walk, and I’m going to take care of you until—until it’s time for your nap.” He decided not to bring up Kara again.

Kacey didn’t object, and so he sat back up. She didn’t say anything or look at him again, but she grabbed at the food on her plate and started to eat.

Sam breathed out, leaning back against the chair. Getting to know soldiers and getting to know their potential couldn’t be half as much “work” as this was, despite the labeling.

ooo

“Hey, Kara.”

Kara looked up with a snap from her shot glass—she’d lost count of exactly how many. Sharon stood there, half-smiling at her, arms crossed.

“Everyone’s talking about how you came back all mellow,” Sharon said with light sarcasm, sitting down and grabbing a drink.

“And they just stayed up here and got bitchy,” Kara answered. Sharon could do this, poke at Kara, because she didn’t have a self-righteous chip on her shoulder. Hell, until recently she’d been considered second-class. Almost like how Kara and the other escapees of New Caprica were being treated. “When’d you become an officer?” she asked, alcohol making her sound a little more curious than her previous tight tone allowed for.

“Just before the exodus,” Sharon said.

Kara just nodded.

“It’s funny, I think I’ve seen Sam more than you since you got back,” Sharon said before the wall of silence could settle again.

“That’ll be changing,” Kara said under her breath.

“What’s he going to do on Galactica?” Sharon asked curiously.

Kara paused, realizing she hadn’t asked. “Not piloting, that’s for sure. And he’s—taking care of Kacey.” The last words didn’t quite spill out, but she hadn’t planned them either.

“So you are adopting, then,” Sharon said, looking at her pointedly.

“Yeah,” Kara said, just before downing another shot to hide her face. Sharon didn’t say anything else, and after another long look that Kara couldn’t read, she got up.

Not that Kara minded seeing her, but she was glad to have just herself and the alcohol again.

ooo

“These are the facilities we have,” said Borgen, as Sam walked into the room, Kacey toddling at his heels. He’d never seen one before, but Sam thought he could recognize the shooting range. “And the nearest armory is mostly allocated to training anyway, so you’ll be fine with that,” Borgen continued.

“What kind of weapons are we talking about?” Sam asked, turning from the room to the officer.

“All standard,” said Borgen.

Sam nodded. “That’ll be a nice change.”

“So, you’ll want to get familiar with things in the next couple hours,” said Borgen. “I’ve had some recruits already, people choosing this line of work. But I’m expecting a list of names in an hour or so, of people who are being assigned security training. Not everyone got their New Caprican job, as you know.”

Sam nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll get a handle on everything.”

“Remember,” Borgen said, as he turned to leave from the room. “I’ll be handing them off to you completely, and though you don’t have a rank, you’ll be their CO. They’ll call you sir, salute, all that.”

“I can handle it,” Sam said.

Borgen closed the hatch behind him, and Sam took in the details of his surroundings. This was nothing like the first few mountain hideouts on Caprica, or even the high school gym in Delphi. Smaller than the latter by a little, but everything in here filled just the right amount of space. He nodded to himself, biting the inside of his lip as he visualized the number of people he could have in different formations. Not just for squad training; he’d probably have to run a crash course in basic military self defense, and even the right kind of bearing they’d need.

Kacey, who had been silent since breakfast, had found a little cubby that might be the remnants of a locker off in a corner, and had sat with her jacket full of her toys. She was fed and not tired—it was acceptable to leave her to play on her own for now, as it’d be obvious if she felt neglected, he thought.

He next found the suits and guns already stored in here. Picking up the first gun, he cradled it in his arm, feeling the smoothness of its clean black form. There were handguns too, encased in belts that looked well padded and fitted. Blank ammo, but of course that would be. He tried on the goggles, remembering thinking how silly they’d looked when Kara and Helo had rescued him from Caprica. Looking through them, though, he felt the function of them.

He exhaled slowly as he looked at the vests, too. Sam didn’t think of himself as a soldier, and he didn’t really like the military machine, especially as in the fleet. But here, contemplating all they had to offer, he wasn’t so inclined towards independent and randomly obtained supplies like he’d had to deal with before. If this was what the system could give him, he had a feeling they could make a right good compromise.

He cocked the weapon, sparing a slight glance to make sure Kacey was not really paying attention, and started practicing his first speech to the recruits that would be coming in. This wasn’t the resistance where people came to him with goals and all he had to do was point the right way. He needed to find a goal, for them, but first for him. Because he didn’t know yet.

ooo

Kara stopped drinking some time in the afternoon, turning to silent games of cards to get her mind back in flying gear. Below decks wasn’t the same, though. An hour before she’d have to change for her second CAP, she folded her cards in and rose from the table.

Kat hadn’t graced the pilot’s lounge with her presence, dealing with that problem. But just as Kara slid in next to Helo and Hot Dog, the latter giving her a strange but not hating look, things decided to be a little more tricky.

“Captain Thrace, may I have a word?” Lee’s voice, as always, snapped at her.

“Sure thing,” she tossed idly at him, turning in her chair as she stood. She made the mistake of looking him in the eye, though. His body might have gone soft; his mind, maybe, if she cared to think about it. But his eyes had all the old fire, and she felt uncomfortably affected.

Right now, they had a kind of cold fire in them, as she followed him just out of earshot of everyone.

“While she may not be your superior officer, striking Captain Katraine was unacceptable behavior,” Lee said, his tone short and sharp as he looked her in the eye. “Under any circumstances.”

“The air must really have been thin up there, where you commanders live and breathe,” Kara said, her own voice teasingly calm. “Decided soldiers should be all rules and no heart at last, Lee?”

“Are you trying to say that you should be allowed to sow discontent?” he shot back at her.

“Let’s just say I was putting a stop to some of it this afternoon,” Kara answered coldly, leaning toward him just a little.

Lee frowned. “What do you mean?”

“As it still fits into your category of ‘any circumstances’, does it matter?” Kara asked coolly, taking one step back. She gave him a small, tight salute. “Don’t worry; now you’ve explained, it won’t happen again.”

She turned away, letting her words strike Lee with all the lack of sincerity she could force into them. She’d vaguely hoped for a second that the line of communication might thaw a little, once he figured out that they were going to be stuck together. The year of break from conflict had been enough for her, she could at least ignore it all. But he wanted to push, and she’d follow his lead on it. She was sure she could always push harder.

Someday, he might figure out that acting as if things hadn’t changed wouldn’t affect her. They had. The facts stared him in the face every day when he looked in a mirror, probably painfully. For now, his attempts at rousing buried and denied emotions would fail. Still, she wasn’t sure if she wanted or feared that he’d learn better.

It didn’t matter as soon as she was in the cockpit, embraced by its close protection. And as the Galactica shot past her on her way to the stars, she held her breath and hoped the cylons would find them.

No, she amended quickly, remembering that the Galactica had more than just superior assholes of all kinds. That was another change. She didn’t want to think about that too much either, so she just flew. No hotshot moves, just frakking amazing flying.

ooo

“What are you here for?” Sam asked yet another man standing in the line he’d ordered them into.

“To serve and protect the fleet, sir,” the man said crisply.

“What you always wanted to do?” Sam followed up.

The man paused. “No, sir,” he said honestly.

“Me neither,” Sam said, moving down the line. “You?” he asked the woman standing in the middle.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Always wanted the chance, never could get past the first course.”

“Do you know why?” Sam asked, almost curious about this.

“Kept forgetting to salute, sir,” she said, looking at him straight.

That was...interesting. Sam kept the introductions short, though, especially once he established that none of them had past military training. He asked for their names next, even though with twelve of them he wouldn’t be able to remember them all perfectly once the day was over.

“This is not the military you knew on the Colonies,” he said finally, standing back so he could see the whole line. “This is not the military you’ve seen in the fleet either.” He thought he saw a couple confused looks at this. “We’re here, not because we’re wanted, but because we’re needed. That’s what the marines are now, don’t you know? Just tools. Tools who are supposed to take care of the details that everyone else assumes just get done by themselves.”

“Sir?” asked another woman in the group, giving him a salute that still looked a bit odd to his eyes. He thought he remembered her name being Gardina. “You weren’t part of that old military, were you?”

He let the seriousness of his face drift just for a second, and a smile that wasn’t mirthful crossed it. “I don’t have to be. You all know the people in CIC. You all know the names of the pilots. You hear about them, you hold them in some kind of regard. But marines? They’re just a word. You don’t know their names, no one does. They’re not people, they’re a vest and a gun in the room.” He withdrew his gaze from their eyes, down to the black vests and loosely held weapons.

Then, inhaling a deep breath, “And you will be too. The more they don’t bother with your names, the more you’ll lose yourself in not having them. The more they assume you will just follow orders without thinking, the more you will. They’ll shape you, if you let them. You’ll become their expectations.” Sam gauged their reactions as his eyes marked each of their faces. He didn’t know any of them well enough yet, and with heads framed by helmet and goggles, their faces might be just variations of the same. He’d get to know them, but who else would?

He wasn’t sure he saw conviction in their faces, and continued. “And yes, I know this. Because a marine is to the fleet what a resistance fighter is to the cylons.” He saw the dawning in their eyes, the connection they finally made between who they thought he was and why he was here. “I’m not doing that again, and I’m not here to let any of you do it either. You don’t have a callsign, but you are just as real as any of those pilots. And you have minds, and lives, and people who you care about more than you care about following orders. Families.” He glanced back at Kacey, and when he looked back he knew at least some of them saw. “So remember–you’re not keeping the fleet safe because you’re ordered to, because some men and women in blue uniforms need extra hands. You’re keeping the fleet safe for the fleet. And don’t ever forget that that’s more than who’s up in CIC. That clear?” He finished with a slight sharpness back in his tone that would tell them that he wasn’t going to be their comrade, even if sometimes he’d talk to them like that.

“Yes, sir,” came the chorus, complete with salutes that came both sooner and later.

“So, the first thing you have to learn is to be comfortable in that,” he said, indicating their uniform. “Line up, practice taking it on and off, and loading and unloading your weapon. Make sure you know where to grab for ammo on that belt. Go.”

The day went smoothly. They took a short break for food after a couple hours, and he was relieved to see that Kacey climbed on his lap without pause as he opened the bag where he’d put their lunch, and didn’t once stare up at him with her big eyes. The next time he glanced her way, back at his job, she had fallen asleep with her face squashed against the side of the cubby she played in. He didn’t know quite how that was possible, given the noise, but it worked.

Sam decided to keep the first day short, even with their late start, but as evening came around, it was still too long for one of them. He’d had them arrange in formations, practice moving in the bulk of their uniforms, and now had them work on achieving tight aim as quickly as possible.

Watching their form, wondering if it was military standard, he felt a pull on his leg. Kacey was there, awake again, pulling at one of his pants’ legs.

“Hungry?” he asked. She shook her head. “Thirsty? Need the head?” Shaking again. “Then what?”

She just pulled, grabbing the edge of his pocket, swaying a little and looking up at him as if he’d have the answer. “You need to play a little more, then we can go home and eat,” he said. She stared blankly. Realization almost dawned on him. “Are you bored?” No nodding, but she stopped swaying and waited.

Sam’s hand came to his face as he exhaled. Bored this soon? It wasn’t like he had magic kid entertainment to hand.

Glancing at the clock, though, he had something else to do first. Stopping all his new recruits with a word, he gave the quick order for them to put things back in their places and take their leave for the day. The bustle started almost immediately, and he tried to focus back on Kacey. What was he going to do? He just looked down at the girl, and she looked back up, and they both waited for something.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Sam looked up, caught the eye of one of the men, possibly Hurchin if he remembered right? Pale with smallish eyes, he looked like he belonged in an office, but he had worked hard today. And the man still stood alert, though he didn’t salute.

“May I speak off the record?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sam said quickly, and felt a sinking in his heart, knowing that he’d likely done something terribly out of protocol.

 “Is she yours?” Hurchin asked, nodding towards Kacey.

Kacey had started to pull again, harder this time. Sam absently reached down, scooping her up to sit on his elbow. “Uh, yes,” he said, caught off by the question.

“I hope you don’t take this wrong,” Hurchin said, a vague smile on his face, “but you don’t look entirely comfortable with it yet. New at this?”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, not quite off guard anymore, but more curious. “My wife—there was no one else for the kid after the planet.”

Hurchin nodded. “Well, I’m not trying to pry, but if you need things to keep her busy, I know my wife has some old things from when our son was smaller, things we brought from Tauron on our vacation before this all started.” Hurchin’s smile became bitter for a second, then cleared. “But if you want to stop by, I’m sure your little girl will appreciate the new playthings.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, the weight lifting a little. He nodded, giving Hurchin a grateful look. “Thanks, yeah, that’ll be good.”

So Sam found himself with Kacey’s things in one hand, the child in the other, following Hurchin down some small dark passageway. Hurchin’s wife Soera was small, dark hair spilling wide around her round brown face. She smiled at Kacey, and then looked almost happy to be asked to find the bag of toys in the corner. People didn’t look happy nowadays, but Sam didn’t feel any weight in that room. In his relief he found himself smiling as he clasped her hand, adding Kacey’s old things to the bag Soera offered. Kacey grabbed the top item in the bag, a small stuffed hedgehog with soft bristles, and hugged it all the way they walked home.

Kara wasn’t there, but it wasn’t until Kacey was fed and her new toys all looked over at least once, before he looked up at the time and started to worry a little. It wasn’t until Kacey asked for Kara, and he found himself sitting with the child, trying to distract her as the hour grew late, that he really was worried. He didn’t know what for.

ooo

The taste of still-brewed alcohol hung fresh on Kara’s breath as she walked back to her quarters. Her body was worn, the forces of Viper flying not something she’d been used to in a long time, certainly not two CAPs a day.

It seemed like Karl and Sharon were on her side, no surprise, and maybe Hot Dog. Maybe he was neutral. The rest could all kiss her ass, what with the attitude they showed. Did they expect her to thank them for saving them off New Caprica four months too late? All that did was make up for the cowardice, there was no debt. So Kara wasn’t going to act like there was.

Her mind crowded with trying to ignore and push off them all, her hand almost fumbled at the hatch to her quarters.

“Kara!” Kacey’s cry of delight was almost a squeal, and she darted across to Kara, hands up as she half jumped in her nightshirt.

Kara froze a moment, too tired and frustrated and—she couldn’t deny Kacey this. She stooped to pick up her child, and then Kacey’s arms were wrapped tightly around her neck, and she was whispering happily, “Kara!”

“Didn’t Sam tell you I’d be back?” she asked, and somehow a soft tone was there for her, frustration tucked away for Kacey’s sake. She glanced over to the couch where Kacey had come from, and, had Sam brought back even more things?

“Glad you’re back all right,” Sam said, standing up with a sigh of weariness and relief.

“Two CAPs were assigned for me today,” Kara found herself explaining before he asked, if he had ever planned to.

Sam nodded. “Kara,” he said, and she found herself bracing, still returning Kacey’s embrace but a little tighter. “Kacey was really upset this morning when you left without saying anything.”

“Oh,” Kara said, flatly. That was all. The tension of anticipating expectations faltered and disbanded. She reached behind her to close the hatches of the quarters.

When she turned back, Sam just nodded, knowing she understood and that was all that was needed. “Looks like you got new toys, huh, Kace?” Kara asked, and Kacey released her hold on Kara’s neck to point over.

“From Daddy,” she said, a tired smile on her face.

Kara glanced up at Sam again, who shrugged a little. “Our day wasn’t bad, all things considered," he said. "If I had a guess, I’d say yours wasn’t even that.”

“If I had a guess, I’d say you probably didn’t have to deal with any pis—” She bit back the harsh word, remembering Kacey.

“There’s dinner left if you want some,” Sam said.

Kara shook her head as she walked past him, heard him start a little, and thought that he could probably smell the alcohol from there. She sighed, but he wasn’t saying anything and so she’d only see all the thoughts if she looked. She didn’t. “I’m fine, and it’s past Kacey’s bedtime.”

“It’s past all ours,” she heard him say with a sigh.

And that was it. She barely caught sight of him as she tucked Kacey in, letting the girl kiss her cheek, but he was just turning the lights low. She’d already changed into her sleep tanks before coming back, and now slid down into the bed next to Kacey. The child squirmed a little until she was tucked up against Kara, Kara’s arm curled around her. In the near-dark, Kara did catch out of the corner of her eye Sam turning once to look towards them.

It bothered her that she knew he had to be thinking something, but she didn’t want to know enough to address it. Life was complicated enough without asking more questions. But even as her own weariness and the alcohol still buzzing in her blood sent her towards a deep sleep, it wasn’t only that she felt.

Kacey’s innocent joy, something she should be giving to someone more worthy than Kara, had done more than push her frustrations out of the way. And Sam, he wasn’t provoking her either, and if she could count on anyone’s thoughts not resenting that she had come back safe from New Caprica, they were his. That—that made her momentarily at peace, or something like it. Her eyes closed, but she was falling asleep in a safe place for the first time in too long.


	6. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Kara sensed that the alarm would go off seconds before it did. She woke hot and a little sticky, Kacey hugging her arm like a safety blanket and her drool tickling Kara’s elbow. Grimacing, Kara squeezed herself out of bed, almost hopping the few steps to slam the button on the alarm.

She heard Kacey sit up, and turned the lights up just enough to see. They yawned at the same time, and Kara walked back to the bed and sat on its edge, sighing. Not sure what she was supposed to do, she still preferred this to going out there.

“Sam doing good with you?” she murmured, absently pushing a curl away from Kacey’s face.

She wriggled a little, looking a little happy despite the next yawn.

Kara looked back across the room, and jumped to see Sam awake, head tipped toward her on the couch arm that served as his pillow. She turned quickly back to Kacey, jaw tightening a little. It felt wrong to see him look that way at her; she couldn’t help that, the way something from New Caprica lingered in the back of her head. Did he know? Was that why every look seemed weighted with something?

She needed a break, that was what it felt like. A break from everyone to scrub away all the troubling connections that came automatically. But Kacey was here, and so Kara would have to force herself to get used to something else. Only days ago that had seemed like it would break her, but she’d overlooked the fact that it felt...good...to look at Kacey and see her safe, a small bandaid taking the place of the distractingly huge bandage. To feel her innocent touch, taking comfort in Kara’s presence. Some of that security seemed to bleed over into Kara, even for a few seconds.

When she found track of time again, she was still looking at Kacey, still sitting on the bed. But Sam was up and getting food out. Kara looked at the clock.

“Mama needs to go, ‘kay kid?” Kara said lightly. She leaned over to plant a brush of a kiss on Kacey’s head, not really noticing the slight confusion in the girl’s face, then got up and walked over to grab her things. She was halfway out the hatch when she heard Sam.

“Kara.”

She turned. He tossed something, and she caught it before recognizing what it was. A protein bar. She didn’t normally eat breakfast—but she wasn’t against the idea, and she’d hardly toss it back anyway.

Slightly uncomfortable, she glanced up at him, then nodded and tucked the food in her pocket as she left.

ooo

Sam arrived with Kacey at his new training center before scheduled time, only to find two of his new soldiers already waiting. One was a tall, lanky man, all dark hair and bronze skin, and Sam thought he remembered his name being Cocherol. The other was Alyssa Gardina from yesterday, the one who never remembered to salute. She had a broad face and keen green eyes, but the tension she’d shown yesterday had disappeared over night.

“Cute kid,” she said, as Sam put down his things and Kacey ran off.

“As long as she’s tolerant of gunfire too,” Sam said absently, putting his things where they belonged.

“Hey, sir?” Gardina asked, and Sam glanced back a second. “What you said yesterday, about no one knowing our name. Everyone knows your name. I don’t think we’ll have quite the anonymity once people make the connection.”

A few more from the group trickled in, including Hurchin. Sam didn’t know what to make of her statement, so he just nodded.

Borgen showed up a few hours into the day, and Sam stepped aside to speak to him as his would-be marines matched ammo to weapons and slots on their belts.

“Just letting you know, Anders,” said Borgen. “As soon as you’ve give them the knowledge they need, I’ll need to give them a brush-up on military rules. And quickly, if you can.”

“That bad?” Sam asked.

“There’ve been kidnappings, and security is being indirectly blamed,” said Borgen, brows heavy over his eyes.

“Kidnappings?” Sam answered, equally dark.

“Cylon collaborators, probably taken to some kind of vigilante justice,” said Borgen. “It’s a bad business.”

Sam nodded, jaw tight. Not that he had any sympathy for true collaborators, but these things always had a grey area, and he wasn’t sure he trusted the fleet. And after Borgen left, he wondered for a brief moment if he was a collaborator now, technically.

ooo

Kara managed to pull a better day out of her return to the flight squad, flying with Rash and Snicker on a practice run that went well. The two were hopeless, but Kara pulled off a curving nip-tuck during the exercise, and felt the pull of Gs on her body almost as strongly as the awe that hung in the silence on the comm channel.

Racetrack had decided to get back in her good favor, at least, and Kara almost-but-not-quite trounced her in triad, though she made some easy money off Hot Dog. She didn’t know why she stayed for more than a couple games, but she did. The clock read too late when she realized that she should head back to her quarters.

Swinging the hatch open, she saw Kacey look up and give a bright, “Kara!”

Sam had a few bits of dirty laundry in his hand, and looked over to her as he put them in a hanging bag. “Hey,” he said.

Kara stood for a moment.

“Did you tell Kacey not to call you her mother?” Sam suddenly asked.

Kara turned sharply to him, the question a surprise sting. “Of course not,” she said, her tone honest in the slight hurt she felt. What was he upset about?

Sam looked over to where Kacey was putting her toys in and out of a small basket. “Well, she’s been concerned about her mother, but she doesn’t seem to think it’s you,” he said with a worried crease in his brow.

So he hadn’t been trying to hurt, it was the truth stinging here, and Kara knew why. She sat on the couch and rubbed at her eyes, tired and not having meant to talk when she came back here. But she had to say something. “I only saw Kacey a couple days before we escaped,” she said reluctantly. “She’s lived—I told you, Leoben stole her life. Yeah she’s confused.” The last words fell dead, and Sam had better understand them because they were all the words she had.

Sam pulled a chair from the table closer to the middle of the room, between table and couch. He sat, looked at Kara for a second with intent eyes, then to Kacey. “Kacey,” he said, beckoning with a hand. She came over willingly, and he once again glanced to Kara before speaking to the child. “Remember what I told you? This is Kara, your mother,” he said, and nodded over Kacey’s head to Kara.

But Kara froze, because even with the change of voice she knew those words. And they tasted cold in her mouth. “Sam, don’t,” she said, a hard edge automatic. “Not those words.”

He seemed to be learning fast, barely looking confused before focusing back on task. “This is your mama, Kacey.”

Kara felt herself lean a little forward off the couch, and she watched Kacey glance between Sam and Kara, hesitant. Something compelled her to speak. “I’m mama, Kace.”

Finally Kacey nodded and grew distracted, showing Sam the toy she had in her hand. Kara hoped, as a few minutes later they were getting ready for bed, that Kacey really had figured things out.

ooo

The next couple days held more of the same, and Sam started remembering all the names. Jordan, Montogo, Hurchin, Elfire, Johnson, Hapner, Cocherol, Gardina, Shinthouse, Nolby, Beliskner, and Matheson. Some better, some worse, all of them ignorant as to what exactly security did on Galactica and what “always prepared” actually meant.

Sam came in a little late one morning, though, and found them all suited up and standing at attention. The moment was slightly ruined when Kacey waved as they passed by, and one of them waved back. And Sam remembered that this wasn’t resistance; it was life. In secluded places like this, it was easy to focus on just that, not the Damocles Sword above. If there was a slight smile on a few faces when he came back, focused and professional as always, he didn’t care as long as it made them follow his commands with a little more good spirit.

He saw Cally the next day in the halls, Nicky in her arms clutching a bottle. “Taking him along?” Sam asked, surprised.

“No,” Cally said with a little laugh. “Daycare.”

“Didn’t know there was one,” Sam said, eyebrow rising a little in his surprise.

“Then how do you—” Cally started, seeing Kacey and not making it fit in her head.

“She comes with me,” Sam said, shrugging. “It works that way. She’s good for morale.”

Cally sighed, rocking Nicky as she stood still. “That would be nice, having him with me all day. I wasn’t really thinking about kids when I chose engine work.”

“Dentistry, right?” Sam pulled up a faint memory from those nights at the Tyrols’ on New Caprica.

Cally nodded, sighed again, and walked on.

ooo

Kara finally spoke to the Admiral a couple days later. He’d been almost a caricature in her mind ever since they’d settled, someone she remembered with all the power of a legend, but who she hadn’t seen in months. She almost gave him a little smile on sight, especially to see that he really had shaved off that lip ferret. The sight was bringing back safer memories than most she had.

“How have you been, Kara?” he asked, but his voice was not light.

Not the right question. “Living, fighting,” she said, half shrugging.

He nodded, then looked at her closely. “Lee mentioned he thought something was up with you, didn’t know how you were holding up.”

Kara quickly recalled the silence from her CAG over the past days, and lost the bit of warmth she’d started to feel. “Lee’s just guessing again,” she said tersely. “I’m doing my job, sir. I’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t sure if her tone was what sent him away without another word. Part of her hoped it would be; part of her wondered how much he was guessing too.

The next day, she started to remember why she had kept her hair short all those years, having to rearrange it every time she took off her Viper helmet. She’d patrolled farther than usual, an urge that occasionally struck her when CAPing with an easily led pilot like Snitch. Even Snitch had stopped after a point, though, to wait while she pressed on, almost sure she saw a hiding place for a cylon.

She was barely back on the deck before hitting bingo fuel, but her own mind was satisfied. Lee offered a slight comment on sticking to her wingman which she ignored; doing her job was more important than who she did it with. Probably. Enemies like Scar didn’t come along every day.

It was way late, and her bed called to her. The lights shone dim when she spun open the hatch, and she walked in quietly. Kacey was already in bed, Sam sitting at the table, a paper and pen in front of him.

“Didn’t join Kacey?” she asked quietly, putting a hand to her neck where a crick waited to be popped.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be back,” he answered, and crossed off something on the list in front of him before sliding it back into a dark folder. She thought it was over, heading toward the water jug, when he said after her. “If you knew you were going to be late, you could have mentioned it to Kacey. Or not gone so early, if you didn’t have to. Why did you?”

Kara’s brow furrowed slightly, and she swallowed a sip of water. Not what she wanted to drink, but it hydrated. “No alcohol here.”

Sam looked like he was about to say something else as she walked past, slipping out of her dogtags so that she could hang them on the hook. But he didn’t, just closed the folder and capped the pen. “Just make sure she gets to see you before you leave tomorrow,” he said in a low tone.

Kara sighed and slid into her bed, Sam onto the couch. A part of her swore that she got the most random of CAP schedules. She didn’t protest; she was good enough to handle it. But more than one motivation was behind most things these days, and Kara seemed to spot them everywhere now.

ooo

The raider popped in a few yards from Kara’s Viper, and her eyes hadn’t fully widened by the time she’d flipped her bird up, back and over where the raider should be. But the little frakker had zoomed ahead, between the two Vipers patrolling the area, and flipped to the right.

Still, it was his mistake. He hadn’t caught their formation, but Kara saw only the one raider, and was curving towards him at almost the exact same time he did. He didn’t know what he was doing there, but she did. She pulled back on the stick in a second as the raider rose, and then let loose with a volley of bullets.

“Shit, Starbuck!” came the shout over the intercom, blasting in Kara’s ear. Kat had been to the right, and as the raider blew into shatters, Kat had to veer sharply up. “Keep your frakking bullets in a target-only zone!”

Kara gave a short cackle over the comm. “Good kills are always frightening, little one,” she mocked.

“Frak you,” Kat answered, tone tighter than her sharp turn back to formation.

Kara barely dropped to deck, though, before she caught a glare from another pilot. Kat didn’t bother actually confronting Kara that often, so her friends managed to get across the point well enough.

Then Lee approached her after the briefing. “I’m not going to ask if you’re insane,” he said hotly, “I just want to know if you’re doing anything to control it. Almost killing practically the best pilot we have?”

“Didn’t, though, and that’s the key point,” said Kara, and even as he was almost in her face, pissed as all could be, she threw him a grin to add to everything. And besides, it had felt good.

Sometimes it felt like old times to piss off Lee, except he didn’t shake his head and smile about it the next day.

ooo

Sam almost regretted not asking more about daycare eventually, as Kacey found more and more things to do during training sessions. He kept a close eye on the guns, but having to stop exercise sets as Kacey’s ball rolled across the floor irritated him just a little. The more comfortable she got, the more he realized that it was no mean feat to keep a child at work.

In the morning, though, as he arrived early to set up an empty cardboard box for her to (hopefully) play in, again reality had to grip him.

“Hi,” said Kacey, as the first arrival came in.

“Morning Kacey,” said Mr. Jordana, then added a light salute as he saw Sam. “Morning, sir.”

It was so easy, such a mixture of common and military, that Sam just watched for a moment. Two more came in, and Kacey waved at each, and then Hurchin said hi back to her when he came in.

Sam remembered Borgen’s words all those days ago, about how children were symbols and symbols of hope at that.

“The most important thing to remember,” he said later, as they started in on the meaty portion of the course, riot control and civilian management, “is that the people you’ll be managing don’t see themselves like that. You may look at them as sheep to be herded for their own safety, but they don’t see you as a shepherd, they see you as a wolf who might strike. They’re not part of a crowd, they’re an individual who may be attacked. Remember eye contact, and remember that even the loudest has a family, just like you. Remind them of that, if you can, but remind yourself first.”

In the demonstration later, Sam showed how to fend off an attacker without appearing offensive, letting your arms simply sweep to the side, stepping forward with one foot and stepping back with the other, letting the attacker slide away.

“Pyramid move, no?” said Cocherol.

“Can’t risk a foul,” Sam said with a nod, but his face held its seriousness. “Even more true when you have a gun advantage. When they don't attack, it's not because they fear you.”

ooo

Kara saw Sharon almost every day, saw her accepted by the other pilots almost more than Kara. Which was both a sarcastic pleasure and a slight grudge for Kara, all for them, though, not Sharon.

She was cleaning up at the card table in the rec room, though, and about to call it quits when she heard conversation switch, and turned around to see Helo.

He didn’t lumber into the room like before, his bearing taking full advantage of his height. She grinned, and he had a bit of a happy smug look on his face.

“What’s the XO doing down here?” Racetrack called, leaning back in her chair.

“I think it’s my duty to come down here and glare every so often,” said Helo, nodding seriously.

Sharon laughed.

“Nah, just making sure you haven’t painted the place since I was here last,” said Helo. He walked over to Kara’s table. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Tonight, nothing,” Kara said, pushing back her chair. “You staying?”

He shook his head.

“Good,” she said. She hadn’t talked to anyone, not really, in too long. “Up for a sparring match? I haven’t had one in forever.”

“Kara, I’m the XO,” he said, smiling. “Wouldn’t be right of me to beat up one of my pilots.”

She smirked, despite her disappointment. “I’m sure having to explain to Dee or the old man that those massive bruises came from little old Starbuck would be massively damaging to your ego.”

“Very much so,” he admitted.

“Well, I’ll go solo then,” she said, about to leave. “Chickenshit,” she murmured affectionately, punching his elbow as she walked by.

The affection didn’t last long, though. Lee was in the corner of a gym, and on first glance she decided to completely ignore him. It was safest, for them both. Difficult, though, and she bit back a dozen things she could say as the punching bag swung in front of her, her knuckles reddening with each hit.

She was starting to think he didn’t hate her. It would have been easier if he did.

She had forgotten just how much her mind orientated itself towards him, the way she was always aware of his presence and would look for his reactions. If she let him, he pulled her towards him in an ever-tighter spiral, body following mind. He didn't understand this. He chose to be, or not to be, near her. He could successfully ignore. The more he turned a bitter eye to her, the more she felt her connection to him weigh on her. But it was his problem, not hers. She'd made a mistake, and followed it up with one perhaps worse, but she hadn't actually broken anything. He guessed, he expected, but he had done it wrong.

It was easier to think about Lee, about the way she felt drawn to him, than about what waited at home. Lee required more time and effort, and what he wanted she wouldn't give. If she thought too much about the family she did have, she might want to lose the stubbornness that made all that too temptingly simple.

The bag absorbed her punches until her knuckles were sore and her shirt soaked with sweat, hair sticking to her neck. She pushed until she felt tired, stomach muscles aching with the clench of both tension and her stance. And then she noticed that Lee had left without her noticing. But looking at the clock, she wasn't surprised.

She needed a shower but it could wait until morning. Sam was sitting on the couch playing some kind of fingerplay game with Kacey, who sat crosslegged facing him. Kacey didn't look up, attacking Sam's fingers with a giggle; Kara saw Sam's eyes track her for a second without his head turning. Kara took a cracker off the table, but she felt too tired to eat. Hot, too, and she stripped her damp tanks and dropped them in the hamper, then lay back on the bed and pushed a few annoying strands of hair from her face. She stared at the ceiling, Sam's occasional low word or chuckle and Kacey's high gurgles of laughter punctuating the hum lulling her mind. Vipers and raiders drifted across her consciousness, but not cylons. She hadn't remembered any of their faces for a couple days now, and drifted into a doze without a hint of nightmare.

She woke with a start, Kacey's small hands cool on her bare stomach as the girl tried to climb into the bed.

"Here you go," Sam said, picking her up and setting her down on Kara's other side.

"Kiss, daddy," insisted Kacey, and put her arms on Kara's belly to lean towards him.

Sam bent down and kissed her round cheek, ruffling her curls with one hand. Then his fingers brushed Kara's bare shoulder in a light caress as he murmured, "G'night."

Kacey was a squirming little ball of warmth, but Kara was cooling down and scooted under the blanket as Kacey rolled into her. Her slow breaths when she fell asleep tickled at Kara's side, but Kara was too tired to move and dozed off again anyway. She barely acknowledged as she did so that Sam sat quietly, his gaze never leaving the bed.


	7. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Only two days later, Kara left early after a bad night where Kacey tossed and turned and Kara'd had a slight headache already. Her eyes had already narrowed when she walked from locker to ready room, and the news there only worsened it. Lee called out CAP assignments but her name wasn't on them like the schedule had said. She was itching for the high Gs to clear her mind, and Lee hadn't given a reason.

After he dismissed them she walked up to him, so pissed that she didn't even pause to notice his improving physique. "Miss a name?" she started with a cool impression of calm.

"No, you were pulled," Lee said and looked at his clipboard to avoid her hot gaze.

"And replaced with Bingo?" Her tone was flatly incredulous.

"It's my call, captain," Lee coolly remarked.

Kara stared at him for a second before walking off.

She could have found something to do, but the radio in the pilot's lounge called her name. A game of solitaire in front of her, the truncated and fuzzy audio of CAP comm chatter filled the air around her as the hours passed. Two other pilots in the room drank and played two-man triad. Then suddenly Kara had put red on red twice in a row, no longer seeing as she looked down. Jaw clenched, the audio came through as pathetic.__

_"Damn it, Narcho!"_

_"There is no way you can blame me for that, the Koriski wasn't even in my sights while you were giving dir—keep your eyes on`–frak!"_

_"Halt, Koriski, this is Bingo ordering a full stop."  
_  
It didn't work. Dee's voice came in next. _"Viper CAP #2, this is Galactica Actual requesting confirmation that the Koriski has indeed struck the Remus during fleet adjustment."_

Kara didn't need the confirmation, she was glaring at the cards as she could picture it all. Bingo might be adequate in combat but only a moron who knew him would trust him to keep focus on this kind of task. And Kara knew just who this moron was, she just couldn't understand why he was losing his brains now.

Lee was frowning in the ready room, clearly having heard the report.

"Getting tired of the talent in your CAPs, that's why I was pulled?"

"I certainly miss your skill and if I could trust you to be objective I'd have no issue ordering you to your limits."

"What the frak does that mean?" Kara demanded, getting to the heart of what was the matter with Lee and his grudging behavior.

"I don't know, Kara," Lee said and looked her in the eyes. "I don't know what your crap is, nobody does. Just that you've been acting like there's a huge chip on your shoulder that you need to take out on anyone who gets near, cylon or not. I'll deal with incompetent mistakes first, if I have a choice; that, I know what to do with."

She'd had a feeling he didn't want to deal with her that day, but the confirmation had her angry and a little stung. She left the room to keep herself from giving him the satisfaction of pushing her to giving a right hook to his jaw. Crap still hung around in her life, sure, and tripped her up occasionally maybe. But if that was the ruling criteria, they were all doomed. Lee just chose to exaggerate because he couldn't handle understanding. He wanted to have a reason to dismiss her. And, damn him, she'd gladly do likewise.

But he was screwing with her even as he dismissed, and she wanted to fight back. She would, if it was anything easier and this was anyone but Lee. The old man would trust his judgment, not least because he'd never understood Kara's departure to New Caprica, and that was the start of her problems in their eyes. Unless she wanted a full coup...

Lee wanted her to slip. She wouldn't, and not just to defy his own petty chip on the shoulder. But she didn't want that from him. Or anyone else. Sam might have been right, she might need Vipers. And she didn't want to, wasn't going to, "earn" her chance at them by playing to a fleet who made quick assessments that were more about them than her. But it was complicated.

She found Tigh in the rec room, frustrated and angry like her, if a little more cynically laid back. When he saw the burn of rage she couldn't yet release in her face, he silently handed her the octagonal bottle that sat still corked at his feet. And she nodded and walked from the room. A long draft of the stuff put a distracting burn in her throat. This was so uncomplicated.

ooo

Sam left the training room, bag in hand, Kacey perched on one shoulder. People scarcely made way for him in the halls, which was an improvement since all the before New Caprican settlement nonsense. He saw Sharon's gaze turn from disbelieving to sparkling all in the instant as they passed in the hall, her gaze less on him than his shoulder accoutrement.

"Have you seen Kara?" Sam asked without stopping, seeing her pilot uniform still on.

Sharon stopped, however. "Her CAP was midday, was supposed to be, I think, but you know I don't remember her name being called. I was on my way after her now to give a message from Karl; she's not in the pilot's lounge or what passes for bars here."

"So she might be home." Sam tipped his head to one side. "Come on, I'm sure she can see you."

But when he opened the hatch and the room was still dark, Sam wasn't surprised even though his stomach sunk. Kara was always visible—not welcomed into many places, but obvious wherever she did end up.

"Odd, right?" said Sharon, frowning. Since she'd known Kara longer than him, that confirmed it. "I don't think there's a deck project going on, but maybe that's an option. Chief would know."

Sam could tell the way Kacey had stopped shifting and playing with her toy that she was paying attention. "Let's go to the hangar, then." He closed the hatch to their quarters behind him.

Chief gave him a look when they showed up that wasn't reassuring, but he nodded and let them in on the mostly empty flight deck. Sharon stepped back, and then Sam saw Kara and quietly handed Kacey to Sharon before moving forward. Empty bottle in hand, Kara sat on the wing of her Viper, almost sprawled across it. He didn't need to get close enough to see the obvious signs to know that she was completely drunk in a way he'd only seen her once back on New Caprica.

She caught his eyes as he approached, silent. "Sam," she said, as if his name was a flavor she judged, "have you seen my bird before?" She adjusted herself on the wing looking almost like she'd slip. "She's a hot little thing." One of her hands rested on the side. "Knows what I like, what I don't."

Sam stood next to her and looked up. "You're drunk." Just to get that statement out of the way. When she looked up quickly, he put up a hand, worried she might slip.

She jerked back. "Don't touch me Sam. Got up here, can get back down." She looked at him, though, and her eyes weren't closed off with the alcohol. "Not my first time drunk. Remember—remember New Caprica, me drinking you under the table?" She slid off and landed next to him with relative stability.

His brow hadn't unfurrowed. "Yeah, I remember." They started back. "Kind of a wedding rehearsal, I thought."

Kara's laugh came quick, short and bitter, stopped by a catch in her throat that choked her up. She swayed a little and Sam rested a hand at her waist as they walked to the exit. Kara found her voice again on seeing Sharon and Kacey waiting.

"Need help?" Sharon asked.

Kara frowned and pulled herself straighter. "What the frak?"

"You were missing, we got worried," Sam explained.

Sharon's face had lost a tinge of worry upon seeing Kara out of trouble, and a little friends' annoyance replaced it.

"I'm not on curfew or parole, I can find my own damn way back to my own damn quarters when I frakking want to," Kara said vaguely unsteadily.

"Mama?" Kacey asked as Sharon set her down.

Sharon gave Sam a look, he sent one back, and she left everything in his hands without another word.

"Can't pick you up right now, Kacey honey," Kara said with a shake of her head, voice with a hint of slur.

"Here," Sam said under his breath. Worry mingled with other emotions, but he held them back to focus on the immediate cleanup. He scooped Kacey into his arms and she watched Kara with big eyes. "Let's all go home now," Sam said.

He couldn't read Kara's face as they walked back, but he had other things on his mind. In a moment he was reminded of life before the war, when his responsibilities were work and stayed out of his home. They were hardly as complicated. Recalling that young fresh feeling had been a matter of ease, sometimes. Caprica had breathed life as well as worry into him after the bombs went off. Days like these, he was starting to feel time creep in on him. Slowly, but clearly.

And then Kara tripped on a tall screw in the floor and couldn't manage a curse before Sam's arm had shot out to hold her up. She caught herself quickly, and yet didn't push his hand away. He kept it there, Kacey curled in his other arm, until their hatch appeared. Kara found initiative to open the hatch and then slump on the couch, every movement speaking of exhaustion of some kind.

Sam heard her sigh with relieved contentment, "This is good.” He glanced to her as he set Kacey down, and saw her eyes slip shut. "Should have come here 'fore."

"Would have been nice," Sam said dryly, but not sure if she heard.

"Mama?" Kacey asked again, walking over to wake her up.

"No, mama's sleeping," Sam quickly said, pulling her away from where Kara lay in a crumple of randomly set limbs. "Come on, we can play something before you eat dinner."

He hadn't expected Kacey's collapsing face. "No," she cried, resisting pathetically even as tears came. "Want mama." She reached for Kara's arm that hung off the edge.

"I know, baby," Sam said, now soft, picking her up as she started to cry and carrying her to the armchair with him. "I want mama too, but not like this," he admitted, barely above the silence.

Kacey calmed enough to let him feed her, silent and not crying. He checked the CAP schedule for new day and adjusted Kara's alarm on seeing that she didn't need to be there until mid-afternoon. She needed sleep.

Kacey broke up again for a few minutes when Sam got her ready for bed after a couple hours of attempted distraction, with her being barely responsive. After the trip to the head, she buried her face in the crook of his neck when he picked her up. He felt the warm drip of tears all the way back. Kacey sniffled when he turned down the lights and gathered her into the bed. He lay back, an arm behind his head, and sighed.

Kacey crawled up onto his chest a few moments later, thumb in mouth, and sprawled over it as if he was a pillow. He drew the blanket up over them both, pushed her curls out of his mouth, and fell asleep with his last sight being Kara across the room drowned in everything but them. He needed to speak.

ooo

Kara woke up to the smells and sounds of late morning, mouth cottony and bitter. Her head drummed its own heavy beat. She squinted but looked up, and recognized Sam by a counter in their room. Yesterday wasn't enough of a blur.

She pulled the world into focus before he walked towards her, cup of something in his hand. "Where's Kacey?"

"Jean's watching her for a couple hours." He gave her the cup.

It smelled like a hangover treatment, but she gulped a sip anyways. As for what he said, Sam trusted Jean with his life, and so Kara did too. Weren't many of those. "Frak, it's late," she said on looking at the clock.

Sam stood near, and nodded.

She looked at herself, brow creasing as her mind fully cleared. "I guess I stole your couch." The words came out, impressing their oddness on her--or was it wrongness?

"The bed's not any worse," Sam said with a shrug, still standing. Kara noticed for the first time that he looked like he belonged here, on Galactica, in this room.

She took his words dryly, grimaced, slid a little more of the disgusting liquid down her throat. Sam sat on the couch finally, with a sigh as he turned to face her. "Kara, I sent Kacey away because I wasn't sure how you'd be this morning."

She didn't have a response of any kind; the only words she could grasp onto reminded her of last night and her little game of 'I'm ignoring you' with the universe. But Sam still spoke.

"And you know," he continued, raising his bowed head, "I've wanted to give you slack, but you need to be frank. Is this all to serve your guilt, or is Kacey something you really want?"

Kara's instinct brushed it off at first as she took another drink, then it turned back before she could think, and she bristled. "Don't frak off about things you don't know about, Sam."

"Don't know about?" Sam's calm cracked, and it caused a little satisfaction as he continued in the charged tone she'd heard more often over her life. "I don't know because you don't tell me. You just come home late, barely even talk to me or Kacey, and then it's off to bed. Every night."

"What the hell, Sam?" The statements that sounded like attacks gave her cause to leap to the defense, confused. "Picture you agreed to not so rosy? Not my fault." Her back ceased to slouch on the couch, becoming almost rod straight, and she turned from Sam and downed the rest of the concoction with more strength than necessary. Something in it was starting to work already.

"No, this is not what I agreed to." Sam faced her. "Because we, _we_, agreed that you'd be Kacey's mother for as long as you could. But if that's just fifteen minutes then I don't know why you're doing it."

Kara had no time for judging, and was it really coming from Sam now? "You have no idea, no frakking idea, what this is all about," she snapped, disabusing the first presumption. "Do you realize I practically sold my soul to a cylon to keep her safe? Oh, because silly me, I was actually being a good mother that once," Kara flung at Sam's face, brows drawn tight and close over her eyes.

"Kara, I know," he said, voice quickly lowering and hand reaching out to touch her.

She backed off from it, recognizing in her rising aggravation his way to diffuse things, soft touches when words failed him. She had no intention of letting him.

"Things are messed up still," Sam continued with a brief downward glance to collect thoughts, "and I was going to wait and let you do it in your own time." But he didn't pull back as she had, and his eyes showed only purpose. "But Kara, I can't let you do this to Kacey."

"Do what?" she demanded.

"Lose you," Sam threw back just as quickly, eyes holding hers as she looked at him, and those words had been unexpected. He added more, "She can't understand that you have anything else in your life, she's not even two years old. All she knows is that her mother barely even looks at her, and less and less each day."

Sam's words, too bold, hit her close. "Just back off Sam," she said in a jerky voice. "Just frakking back off." The emotions rose and she followed, standing swiftly and putting the couch behind her.

"Kara, stop," Sam said as he went after. "I know you love her but that's not the same as--"

Kara spun to cut the downward spiraling words short. "Look, Sam, I didn't want to do this to you in the first place, remember?"

“To us,” Sam corrected strongly, and they stood face to face in the center of the room. “This isn’t about me, I can take it. Kacey wants her mother. And if you—if you could imagine how much—” He broke off, needing to swallow some emotion.

Kara couldn’t just throw the words back at him, they hurt too much to be dismissed. But to address them— “I’m not this,” she said, pained, hand waving between them and around the room. “This wasn’t going to work from the start, and I told you that. Kacey did not need me in her life then, and now it’s worse, but there’s no stopping that.” She turned and walked over to whip open a cupboard.

“You love her, right?” she heard Sam demand.

She turned and gave him a contemptuous look, and found him right in her path.

“Then let her know,” he said, grabbing her shoulders and holding her still. “Gods, Kara, that’s all you need to do.”

“Frak, Sam, I don’t even know what that means,” she said, twisting away from his grip. He didn’t let her go, though, and she didn’t fight.

“Look at me,” Sam said, voice still tight with frustration. Her eyes flicked up. “I’m not asking you to be something you’re not. Kacey and I—” he paused and exhaled, tone quieting. “We love you, Kara, that’s it. We don’t love this picture of you as a happy little housewife”—she jolted in his grasp—”we just love you. And gods, that is enough, that’s all you need to be. Just you.”

She was looking at a spot just below his eyes, but she could hear the earnestness. Then she heard him sigh, and looked up to meet a straight gaze.

“So if you hate us,” he said in a low voice, “just go and we’ll live. It’ll hurt like hell but we’ll live. But you can love us and we’re not going to ask anything else. It’s not a slippery slope, all we want to know is that you’re not pushing us away. You don’t have to be afraid, or do anything else—Kara, we just want you.”

Kara sharpened her gaze on him, zoning in on a point. “Is that why you sent Kacey away? Because this is me, and you don’t want her to see that apparently. Not the drunk who pisses off the whole fleet, but that’s who I am too.” She inhaled, and saw Sam’s lips tighten before she continued. “And that’s why Kacey shouldn’t be in my life, and you know that, no matter what you say.”

“No, Kara, no,” Sam countered quickly, firmly. He looked even more directly in her eyes, no softness or backing off in him now. “I know you well enough to know some things, and one of them is that you _do_ things, Kara. When you care about someone or something you frakking show it, and maybe that’s snapping at Jean when she snipes at Sharon, or maybe that’s running toward the cylons with just a knife to rescue your child, but that’s who you are. So this? Right now? Not you.”

She felt an automatic rankle at the conviction in his tone, and the assumption of knowing more about her than she did, but no retort came to mind before he continued.

“I think you’ve meant every word you’ve said about caring for Kacey, but you’re not showing it, so that just means that you’re afraid to.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re afraid to let her know that you care because you think she’ll suddenly become needy and demanding and try to steal away who you are,” Sam said, and then took a breath because it seemed like all his surety had been put in that.

Kara had never heard him say this much before, and she’d never have guessed it’d be for her half cylon child. But the words bit deeply, even though her tries to come up with an answer failed. He still had more, and she was frustrated but looked back up.

“Well, Kara,” Sam said, looking at her straight as if this was the final point. “All she wants is for you to be here. Sometime.” He breathed out and added, almost looking beyond her as if he was remembering the recent past, “She just wants to sit at your feet and play knowing that you’re there just in case. She wants to show you her things, she wants to hug you for no reason, she wants you to be there where she can see you and know she hasn’t lost you. Just for a little.” His words broke off; his head lowered a second.

But he’d gone too deep, the words piercing an old scab, and Kara knew to not look for a reply. She’d gone over it thousands of times, hadn’t she, day after day? But her father had never come back so she could let him know. Kara breathed in as her heart clenched, and she had to heal that wound again.

She had just looked up when Sam raised his eyes to her again, this time warm with chagrin.

“Kara,” he said softly, almost laughing in a kind of apology. “I’m just trying to tell you there’s no pressure to perform. I wasn’t trying to start a fight.”

Finally her chest loosened enough for her to speak, memories breaking the anger apart. “You could have made it sound simpler when you started,” she admitted, echoing his mirthless almost-laugh, even as the bitterness hung on her. She brought a hand up, rubbed it against her nose. “Feels like everything’s slipped away,” she sighed, “or pushing back when I don’t want it to. It was safe here, and easy—frak, that’s what you were trying for, right?”

Even as she finally fathomed his motive now, she saw that what this was all about, really, was her cowardice. She’d used this, not as a haven, but as a hiding place. She wanted to resent Sam for calling her on her cowardice, but if she hadn’t known, she’d have kept sliding towards all the places she feared—self-loss, neglect. It was easier to be disgusted with herself for that.

Sam didn’t want her to wallow. “Hey, c’mere,” he said, and his hands slipped around her shoulders to gather her in a soft embrace, even as she started to look back up. “You need to hide, you do it,” he said right by her ear as she stood on tentative edge. “But you don’t need to from us.”

“Sam—” she started, then felt her voice start to crack and gave up on words, just hugged back as her brow furrowed with a kind of relief she didn’t understand. He squeezed her to him until she had to stand on her toes. The coiling tension cracked under the pressure, and the shards just melted away. She sighed against his shoulder, for the first time in a while really wanting the security he brought.

A knock sounded against the hatch, and they broke apart.

“What?” Kara called, feeling Sam’s lips brush her hair as he stepped back.

Jean opened the hatch, Kacey in arms and face drawn. She looked vaguely unsure, then.

“No, it’s good,” Sam said. “Thanks, Jean.”

Kara caught herself before she cared about anything but instinct, and followed it the couple steps to take Kacey from Jean into her arms. Kacey’s eyes lit up with an instant, untainted light that would never break Kara.

Then Jean left, and Sam glanced at the clock that told of late morning. “Time for us to go,” he said.

Kara nodded, and then did what she had always wanted to do, follow her urge without qualm. She gave Kacey a small squeeze, and when the little girl smiled, she felt herself respond halfway. Then, shaking it off, she bopped Kacey on the nose and handed her to Sam.

She had barely a second to catch Sam’s eyes as he grabbed their daybag and opened the hatch, focus already starting to switch to the other half of his life. But Kara caught the ease in his stride, and knew him enough to guess the rest. It was good to know that much.

And for her, the pain of what he’d brought forward would pass soon. The rest hadn’t hurt, and she almost but not quite smiled as she thought on it, grabbing her dogtags and a bite to eat.


	8. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam’s hangover recipe left a little buzz in Kara’s head, something that made her want to drown it out or work it out. The hour before her CAP she dragged out vids of old cylon battles, grabbed blank paper, and started scratching out lines and designations and time signatures. Lee walked in and she tossed him a paper, strategies he might try teaching instead of the books. She didn’t look up to his face.

CAP flown, the hour dragged late and she returned to her quarters. The feel of the room didn’t exactly try for domestic, not with tin plates and washed tanks in a functional but random pile by the bed, and was that a gun? She trusted it to be unloaded as she pulled a chair under her.

War ground her down raw eventually, domesticity made her tense. This was something else entirely.

Kacey had a blanket spread out, lying on her stomach on it. Her two Vipers had joined a stuffed version of the famous Maranatha battlestar, and Kara wondered what kind of world Sam had found in this fleet where things like that were still cherished. Kacey just looked up, smiled a small, almost secret, smile, and then went back to her play.

Sam left without a word after a little, and Kara just sat. Just sat and watched, and for the first time thought about the word ‘future’ and all it meant.

Kacey brought her a storybook, and Kara smiled. “That’s nice,” she said. And meant it.

Without the farce that the rest of the fleet bought into, that everything was going to be exactly the way it was before, life _was_ nice here. Nice enough that all the issues were contained in this little bubble that all three of them had created. Not nice enough to get rid of them, and somehow that gave Kara more reason to relax than the opposite would have. She was used to issues. Even if she was afraid that if she looked too closely at the recent past, they might overwhelm her. It was easy to forget Leoben here.

She just sat and watched Kacey play.

ooo

Sam found satisfaction in the frustrating mess his marines made of things. Slip ups here, flat attempts there, and the joking laughter from fellow instructees that did get the concepts. He mentioned it to Jean when she stopped by.

“Never thought you’d go military, Sam,” she said, looking tired as hell.

“The thing is, I’m not,” Sam commented, as he had his students in two lines, going through the motions of riot defense maneuvers. “It’s like the moment Borgen left us alone, the rest of the fleet disappeared, and it’s just us. We’re becoming our own form of military.”

Jean snerked.

“What?” Sam asked, but smiled a little at seeing the hint of her old self.

“You finally noticed it,” she said, eyes bright for a second. “Everywhere you go, you’re so focused that you draw everyone else into your little world, and it’s a bit different than everyone else’s. C-bucs, Caprica, and then you and Kara on New Caprica. Doesn’t surprise me that you managed it here, even on the famous ‘Bucket’ herself.”

Sam paused, shrugged. “As long as it’s a better world.”

“Yeah,” Jean said with a flat laugh, and nudged him with her elbow. “Yeah, you try too hard to make everything work for it not to be a decent place. I’d call you an idealist, but you’re not.”

“I hope not,” Sam said with a chuckle. “But there’s logic enough in reality to fix things, if you look hard enough.”

“Somedays I wish I could believe it,” Jean said, and sighed, arms crossed.

“Somedays I wish you could too,” Sam said, nudging her back. “And everyone else for that matter.”

Beyond them, Nolby slipped and fell crashing into Jordan, their guns clattering to the floor. Matheson on the other side, unarmored as they were supposed to represent rioters, raised his gun and chortled loudly as Gardina bent to help the other two up.

“Well, have fun with that,” Jean said dryly and turned a little to leave.

“Hey,” Sam said, before she turned. “I forgot—what’s been going on with you?”

“So we are in your little world, then?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

He took the rebuke, and nodded. “As much as I can fit,” he said, knowing that she knew him well enough to hear what apology he could give.

“Just trying to finish up the war, that’s all,” Jean said with a shrug, and the hint of a friend’s smile.

Sam nodded again, and she left. He turned back to the world he made, too busy even without all the issues that he convinced people to leave at the hatch. He frowned. “Hey, work here,” he said firmly, walking back to his people.

“Sir, Matheson’s a walking punching bag,” said Hapner, one of the most diligent of his students even though she thought teamwork was a cause for snark.

“That would be the point, given that you’re riot police,” Sam answered, tossing her a glance.

He caught a few grins from those who merely appreciated the joke, then watched as they straightened up under his steady gaze.

“This won’t be funny when you’re defending yourself against a mob who wants your head,” he said, “but remember, before you joined this, you could have been on the mob’s side. Now, who remembers their second assignment for today?”

Hapner raised her hand, with a roll of her eyes at a few blank looks, but so did Hurchin and Shinthouse.

“Gotta do better than that, if you want to keep your head in a crisis,” Sam said, and nodded to the ones who remembered. “Come on, get at it, figure it out as you go.”

“Sir, what’s my job again?” Beliskner boldly asked, his eyes all wide and innocent.

“Cylon conspirator,” Sam said, changing up the routine just for the fun of it.

Beliskner’s eyes managed to go wider, and he hadn’t remembered what he had been assigned but he could remember what he hadn’t been assigned. He glanced around, but the rest were repeating the morning’s instructions under their breath or getting into position. It was always some mix of role play and by-the-books drill (if they had books, which they didn’t).

“So get in there and make them work for it,” Sam said, drawing closer and lowering his voice. The drills got too easy sometimes, and the men sometimes forgot that nothing was always as it seemed. People could speak falsely. He’d remind them of this in a minute after Beliskner found a way to sabotage the drill.

But at the end of the day, even as he said farewell to the squad that was slowly but surely coming together under his hands, he gathered Kacey and his things together and had to find a different kind of satisfaction. He thought he “got” fatherhood now, as much as he could. Kacey was his to protect, his to guide, his to train, and his to cherish above all else—what he didn’t get was how much of it should be shared responsibility. And what this kind of family meant when there wasn’t even a real marriage in the middle.

He hadn’t put the pieces together satisfactorily, in his mind. He just went through the motions and did what he had to do, what he even wanted to do on some days. But that night, Kara was home in the usual time frame, and he watched as she stayed awake.

Kacey ate her dinner on the floor, which was much easier than trying to make the chair the right height for her, but found her way to Kara on the couch eventually. Sam was putting together another set of necessary documents and reports, but he saw Kara stretch out her legs, making space for Kacey to climb up on her lap and show her the one worn storybook she had. Sam caught Kara’s eyes as she looked at him with a skeptical ‘She likes this?’ expression. He just grinned tightly and tipped his head, and only half caught her mumbling something about tastes. But Kacey just sat in Kara’s lap and ‘read’ to herself, and Sam didn’t notice as much dissatisfaction when he settled into his couch after dark.

ooo

Kara blasted the motherfrakking shit out of an asteroid the next day. Just because. And damn if she didn’t deserve a chance to blow off some steam. She didn’t stay around to feel the aftermath, feel the general unstated opinion of how she took airs and chances, and left the pilot’s room before a crisis came and out-of-the-box might be in vogue again.

The steam didn’t come from anger, as much as sometimes even she thought it would. But frustration coiled in her after every CAP, no matter how smoothly it went. Even if she just saw all of them, any of them, pilot or not.

It was so simple for everyone else to have an identity for Kara. To Kat she was a waste of space, to Helo she was a lost friend, to Lee she was a cipher, and to Sam she was just Kara. Just Kara, because there was too much to describe to explain her.

And which one was her? She had known, once, when she was the one framing impressions in others’ minds. Then Leoben had done the opposite, formed an impression and then forced her into it. Little by little she’d given in. For the greater plan, maybe, which had never come to fruition.

Now she was just Kara and Starbuck on other people’s terms, and she didn’t know what to try for on her own. She just didn’t want to be on Leoben’s terms. Playing by ear worked for her, as it should in all natural states, but the rest of the ship was having to reshape all their impressions and now she wouldn’t cooperate and join everyone else in fitting into old forms. Some days she grinned inside and watched them squirm; it wasn’t her deal.

Today they were all frakking idiots and thank the gods her CAP was over for the day. She didn’t want to spar or work, though, and cards and drinking alone would irritate the crap out of her today. Her space was free, though. Four walls, a bed, a couch, a table. Her things, Sam’s things, Kacey’s, and the places where they blended together into just ‘ours’. But aloneness in that place grated at her too, and neither the gods she owned nor her father’s music could grip her in the moment.

“Frak,” she muttered, and pushed her hair out of her face with an irritated grimace. She half-kicked a piece of paper on the floor, then saw that it wasn’t random. Frowning, she picked it up. She recognized the type, military language and numbers and things that wouldn’t matter at all in the heat of battle. But it was Sam’s name at the bottom, and Sam’s handwriting all over it.

With all that was too old and too familiar and just not right, she was reminded in the moment that she didn’t know where her two near-constants were. What did Sam do all day? How did he make Kacey fit in?

Catching the numbers on the printout that gave the room of the ship, she guessed where they were. A near silent part of the ship, one she didn’t visit, but the sense of people grew as she wandered the halls.

She opened the hatch quietly, since she could. Strange how her frustration felt less here. Her frown almost in place still, she gently crossed her arms and watched in silence. No one noticed until Sam glanced around. She nodded and said nothing, just watched. His face didn’t show anything in particular, and he went back to his work.

It spoke to her of Caprica, of pyramid jocks and survivalists and a leader who shouldn’t have succeeded as far as he had, with only celluloid logic at his beck and call. And it spoke to her of all the times when rules and logic didn’t work as well as the more uptight said they should, and sometimes instinct was the best bet. Even as Kara watched Sam teach the rules, she saw the instinct behind them. Just like Caprica. Just like the good old days.

She only noticed Kacey when the girl looked up from her play and hurried over to Kara, toothy grin as she raised her arms. Kara picked her up, plopped her on her lap, and just watched. Better than CAP, that was for sure. Some part of her was thinking, about the future as well as the past, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Absently, she stroked Kacey’s hair.

ooo

On some days, though, a metaphorical sun seemed to pop out of the fleet’s sphincter and give a nice shiny glow to things.

“They call him Apollo ‘cause of his god complex, right?” Hot Dog offered over the comm on CAP.

Kara, who hadn’t taken any hits from Lee recently but didn’t mind banking up extra scores just in case, heard him loud and clear. She grinned, and made it heard through the comm, “Frak if I was around then, but gods help us all. Or god.”

“Least we can be glad he’s got that kind of complex, and not the kind you get from seeing the length of the Arrow of Apollo,” Hot Dog tossed back, amiable even when it was certain Lee was listening.

Kara chortled then, not least because Hot Dog had the wit and subtlety of a rock. “Shit, Hot Dog, you can contemplate that metaphor all you want, but you’ve got no ground to stand on.”

“But I don’t have a complex about it,” Hot Dog answered.

“I can make you one,” Kara threw back.

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Hot Dog said, and flipped his Viper over Kara’s to give her the bird.  
_  
“This is Galactica Actual reminding pilots to think about the frakking cylon encounters that might occur during playtime,”_ Gaeta’s fakely smooth tone drifted across the air waves.

“Instead of other frakking...encounters...got it,” said Hot Dog, and Kara saw him give a salute just before rotating his Viper again.

“You think you’re something today, don’t you,” she said in a steely dry tone.

But he knew and she knew that some days you just didn’t give a frak about the end of the world. It wasn’t about that. At least someone got it, for today at least.

ooo

The one day Kara came home relaxed, Sam didn’t know what to do.

“Had a good day,” she said, inhaling deeply and filling her plate instead of the usual picking she did.

“Never would have guessed,” Sam managed, but he couldn’t find the emotion to put into it.

She glanced at him briefly. “Get any sleep recently?”

Momentarily surprised by her notice, his voice still had a bit of leftover edge to it, “Sleep, yes, cooperation, no.”

“Which moron was it?” she asked idly, sitting at the table and chewing the bland food on her plate.

“The entire frakking military,” he said, then caught her eyes after he said it.

She paused, then grunted a sort of agreement. He’d always known she didn’t think of herself as part of the system.

“They don’t get the civilians I’m training, and they don’t look kindly on go-betweens, for no rational reason,” Sam said in a dry rant. “They want results without the work. More, they don’t want civilians at all.”

“Frak ‘em,” Kara offered, raising an eyebrow. “It’s good. You train more civilians, maybe they stop complaining.” She paused. “Not that it stops the military, but at least the complaining would come from stupidity not ignorance.”

Sam couldn’t bite back the low chuckle then. “Good day for you, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said with an attempt at a smile, and continued to eat.

ooo

The oddly safe little world of their chamber didn’t go as far as necessary. Kara flew awake in half a second after Kacey screamed and then screamed again. The bed was comfortably warm even where Kara was pressed against the back wall, but Kacey was kicking off the blankets, flailing, frantically grabbing for something.

“Kacey, what is it?” Kara asked, heart tight.

But Kacey just screamed, weeping screams that tore through Kara’s heart like barbed wire.

“Is she safe?” Sam asked, up from his couch the moment he’d awakened and close to their side. In the low light, he was just a shadowy figure on the edge of the bed, but she heard worry.

“I don’t know,” Kara said, feeling all over Kacey for something the matter. “No injuries, no fever, she’s just terrified.”

“Nightmares?” Sam suggested.

“Gods know she had enough fuel,” Kara said, trying to bring Kacey closer to her. “Kacey,” she whispered. “Kacey, it’s okay, mama’s here.”

Kacey curled into her, all fetal position and pressed against Kara, but her screaming just turned into sobs, frantic and jerky.

“Kacey?” Sam said, putting out a hand to the child’s head.

“Just get in, Sam,” Kara said, her arm wrapping around Kacey’s small form and enfolding her in her arms. “I don’t know what she needs, but it can’t hurt.”

Sam crawled into the bed, plenty big enough for them all. “Hey Kacey,” he said in a low tone, scooting near her, so that she was cradled in between him and Kara. He put a hand on Kacey’s arm, stroking it, making soothing little sounds. “Don’t cry, baby, we’ve got you safe.”

But Kacey didn’t stop, just cried as if she’d been holding back fears for her whole life only to finally let loose now. She trembled, and her cries almost started to sound like mumbled words.

“You don’t think it’s something like—I don’t know, something humans can’t understand?” Sam asked, quiet but sounding sick. Kara looked up from where she rested her forehead on Kacey’s, saw the worry twisting his face.

She wanted to say no, wanted to deny the hell out of it all. But at some point it was no use. “I don’t know,” she said, words clipped. She shut her eyes for a few seconds and pulled Kacey closer.

They didn’t have any more words than that. Kacey’s cries faded, turning to hiccoughs and jerky breaths, becoming rhythmic as sleep finally found her again. Sam breathed out, and he raised his arm to rest it across Kara’s waist, covering both of them. Kara felt the touch, remembered that it was Sam in her bed, and unbidden to her mind came the memories of beds she shared. It had been five months since she and Sam had been intimate, and just that word sent Leoben and his intentions flooding into Kara’s head.

She flinched, she wanted to push Sam away, tell him it was too soon. But as her eyes snapped open, she saw Sam in the dark. His eyes were closed, his breathing joining Kacey’s in the rhythm of sleep, and his face was tired and worried for Kacey. His arm protected both of them, both of the ones he held dear. It wasn’t like Leoben at all, nothing hidden in the unconscious intentions. The urge to get away faded, and her own weary worry wasn’t enough to keep her awake. She just rested her hand on Kacey as she drifted back to a thankfully dreamless slumber.

ooo

Sam lost track of how long it had been, almost six weeks since he first brought these twelve would-be marines together. He wouldn’t tell them, but he’d learned almost as much as they had. Borgen stopped by, mentioned that they looked good, and would probably only need a little brush-up on procedure.

“Few more weeks?” Borgen asked.

“Another couple months would be good,” Sam said. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d deliberately made the training go on a steadily slow slope, making the transition as natural as he could. His resistance had been flash trained, and it showed in the brittle military strength they had. It would serve these men and women better in the long run to grow solidly into these roles. And when they would be protecting the ships, and thousands of other people, solidity would be paramount.

“Graduate a couple early, maybe?” asked Borgen hopefully.

“Ask me again in a couple weeks,” Sam said with a small grin.

But Borgen didn’t show up in a couple weeks, and Sam had too much else to care about. Kacey was changing under his and Kara’s eyes. She’d been quiet, malleable, in the beginning, though Sam had always guessed that her mind was at work. But that first nightmare had been an omen, almost. She alternated between bold and erratic now, laughing and talking more, and pushing the boundaries that he and Kara set.

This was what they had tried for, right? Give her safety so that she could be who she was going to be? Only it wasn’t easy that way, and his love for the little girl who had worked her way into his heart started to mingle with frustration at her antics.

The last night had been a mess, Kacey waking at intervals, turning from Kara to Sam and back again, over and over. Kara had finally left, frowning with worry but trusting by now that Kacey would be fine by morning. But Sam hadn’t wanted to get out of the bed when his wake-up call sounded, sleep hanging at the back of his eyes. Kacey pushed at his arm, begging for breakfast, and it wasn’t cute then.

Sam sighed, gritted his teeth, and got things done. But Kacey fussed when he got her dressed, pushed away his hand when he tried to untangle her hair, and refused to leave until he found the Viper toy she’d lost the night before. He saw the slight bleariness in her eyes, knew it was tiredness more than anything, but he was ready to let her play on her own by the time they reached the training room.

The schedule passed by slowly that day, even when Sam put his all into it, working for perfection in their technique because it couldn’t frustrate him as much as anything else.

“Uh, sir?” Gardina said after an hour, glancing over his shoulder with a caution in her eyes.

“Hold,” Sam said to all of them, hand raised, as he turned. A few long strides, and he’d caught up with Kacey, headed towards the hatch with her arms full of toys. “No, Kacey,” he said, pulling her back to her cubbyhole.

She didn’t say anything, and he went back to his work, rubbing his eyes.

He watched the bodies in black uniforms as they marched in step, cleared corners, reloaded their weapons, practiced aim on a moving target, all in almost perfect unison. Then:

“Sir,” said Cocherol, nodding to the other side of the room.

Sam said nothing as he walked to grab Kacey before she made it out of the room, this time saying “Stay here” when he brought her back to her part of the room. She looked up at him with eyes empty of any emotion.

None of his people bantered that day, as he barely managed to focus on their training and watch for the inevitable moments when Kacey wandered towards the hatch. Each time she stubbornly refused to respond to his words, and each time he felt on the verge of tearing his hair out. Everyone else followed Kacey’s silence, though, until the end of the day when he could finally dismiss them with an honest, “Well done.”

“No,” Kacey protested as he stuffed their things into the duffel bag.

“Not now,” he said, half under his breath as he gave her a pointed look.

Hurchin was standing by the hatch as he went to leave, Kacey toddling behind.

“Here, I’ll lock up,” the man said. “Your plate is full.”

“Thanks, yes,” Sam muttered, perfectly fine with delegating.

“Wondering why you agreed to the whole children thing in the first place?” Hurchin asked, the slight amusement in his face outweighed by the sympathy.

“Yes,” Sam said honestly.

“There’s always days like that,” Hurchin said. “Parenting isn’t about what you want, those days.”

“Yeah, that helps,” Sam said, but the sarcasm didn’t come with it. He was just tired, not giving up.

“Good luck, then,” Hurchin called over his shoulder as Sam and Kacey left.

That helped for a few moments, until they got back to the room they had to call home. Like everyone else, Kacey fit better in that room, and for a couple hours there was peace that threatened to send Sam to sleep on his feet. But then he had food ready for supper, and Kacey didn’t touch her plate. And then, threw it on the floor.

Sam bit down hard on words as he stooped to clean it up, silently about to hand the plate back to Kacey. But he saw the look on her face and decided to give in on that, make it easier for himself, and put the plate on the table instead. Kacey just stared at him. He broke away first, not interested in any more power games, and grabbed a washrag to finish the clean-up.

But he turned back and she was halfway to the hatch, doll in hand.

“Kacey, no,” he insisted, walking over to stand between her and the hatch.

She threw the doll across the room, and any other night he might have congratulated her aim. Tonight, he just clenched his jaw and walked over to pick it up, intending to put it away and get her ready for the bed she so obviously needed. But as he turned around, she had followed him silently, and he realized just before stepping that she was practically under his feet. He overcompensated, avoiding stepping on her by tripping and falling over her, crashing to the floor with a loud crack.

His shoulder hurt for a minute, and he just rolled onto his back. There was nothing else to say, so he said to the room, “Ow.” Gods, what was wrong with today?

Kacey giggled.

He gave her an incredulous look from the floor that might have looked like a glare. She giggled again, and walked over to grab the toy and hit him with it.

Stupid frakking moody kids—but she wasn’t throwing a tantrum, and so he just closed his eyes and relished the moment of near-peace. Then the doll hit his eye, and he jerked and said, “Ow,” again. But the moment was all he had needed, and her giggle didn’t frustrate him as much as it should have.

She hit him on the stomach, giggling unstoppably in an utterly exhausted way. He closed his eyes, tired and being slowly drawn into the contagious laughter, then decided to go with it. In a swift move he’d rolled over, a brighter light in his eyes, and scooped her up into his arms. “No more nice daddy,” he whispered in her ear, and started tickling her.

She squealed and fought back, her little kicks stronger than they should be. Sam didn’t have the energy to grin, but as she even started to tickle back, he felt like he could have.

ooo

Kara came back to her quarters, opened the hatch, and paused and almost smirked. Sam lay out on the floor, sprawled on his back with an arm flopped over his face. Kacey lay flat on his chest under his other arm, rising and falling with each of his slow breaths. They slept soundly.

Kara felt the weariness of the bad night’s sleep, but somehow the sight of Sam and Kacey asleep gave her a little more life. She forgot what the rest of her day had been, and just sat on the floor and watched. There were few things that could soothe her mind, keep thoughts away, but this inexplicably did. And it seemed like only a few minutes later that Sam slowly stirred and blinked awake.

The whole situation seemed a little more amusing then, as he glanced first to Kara and then to the still-sleeping Kacey on his chest.

“Playing mattress, or do you just hate the couch that much?” Kara asked, being a little easy on him given that he’d just woken up.

He looked vaguely relieved and amused all at once. “Nice,” he said flatly, voice still a little tired even after the nap. He slowly sat up, avoiding waking Kacey. “Managed to turn a skirmish into something less threatening,” he explained. “This is a high-maintenance day for her.”

Kara bit back a tired snicker, and followed him as he stood up, sleeping child in his arms. She pulled back the covers on the bed, then moved out of the way as he tucked Kacey in. It looked like she’d sleep undisturbed that night.

But when Sam walked behind Kara to flop on the couch with a sigh, Kara wasn’t ready to let it go. She couldn’t just go to sleep like this, somehow, without something to bookend the day. So she followed, and joined him.

The thoughts started coming back to her, almost frustratingly so, as it didn’t add up. Something pulled at her, from far back in her time, a time she’d closed off and locked up and never wanted to think about again. So she just let it pull at her, and didn’t ask why. But it had never pulled at her like this before, and yet this wasn’t going to be a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and that—and that—

She sighed, long and hard. “When the world decides to flip upside down and take you with it, you keep thinking that someday it’ll flip back,” she said to the room, Sam sitting next to her. And then added, because she was too tired to stop, “But it doesn’t. Those Colonial days are dead and gone. So is New Caprica. What we had is gone, what we have now is what we have.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam managed to follow the remark that was almost unconnected to what happened just before. He answered quietly, “So we might as well do our best with whatever’s different, right?”

“Right,” Kara answered.

For a moment they just sat, and then it was too different for Kara, and she felt a different pull. So she turned, leaned in, and kissed Sam.

She felt his lips tremble, his hands come up to hold her face, though more trying to hold back the urgency in his response to her. But even when she closed her eyes, she could feel his desire to pull her close, crushed against him, nothing he wanted more than to hold her in his arms. But his hands held her carefully, and the kiss lasted long but stayed a kiss, and when she finally pulled back Kara felt the warmth of familiarity and was satisfied. And yet, before they called it a night, she felt the urge to speak.

“I’m not going to worry about finding that old spark again,” she said quietly as she got up from the couch. “Old isn’t better than new.”


	9. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

“Look who showed up,” Dee said when Kara sat down between Gaeta and Helo at their table in the pilot’s lounge.

“Found a new home, apparently,” said Gaeta, serving her a fresh hand of cards.

“Didn’t we all?” Kara said, looking back at him. She didn’t regret when she saw him feel the fact behind her light words.

“Yes, things change,” Gaeta said, words keen.

“Do they?” Dee asked, leaning across the table to put her bet in, and almost looking at Kara.

“Are you nuts?” Kara asked, picking up her cards and leaning back in her chair, flicking her hair back. Dee met her gaze with nonchalance, and Kara knew what she had meant, but she wasn’t going to go down that road. “This isn’t the same ship anymore, you know that.”

“So you keep telling us,” Helo commented quietly, putting in his bet. “But it was the same to us, it was you who came back different.”

Kara didn’t nod, just stared at the pile of tokens in the center of the table. “Yeah.” She wasn’t going to explain to him that it wasn’t a choice. Things were different. Were. No choice in the matter.

“Someday it won’t make a difference, maybe,” Dee said with a sigh. Then, with a near roll of her eyes, “Kara. Bet.”

Kara threw her a meaningless glare just before throwing a meaningless token into the pile.

“Why so serious?” Gaeta said, a brightness that was more than a little fake in his tone, bordering on sarcasm. “Come on, Starbuck, insult someone and get the party started properly.”

“If you think I spare valuable words on anyone who asks for it, you bridge rats have been in close quarters too long, clogged up your brain power,” Kara said airily, and leaned back even further in her chair.

Gaeta smirked, and the game continued.

ooo

“Is it even possible for her to have grown in six weeks?” Sam asked, managing to enjoy even the makeshift alcohol offered in the Tyrols’ quarters.

“Yes,” Cally said bluntly, looking at where Kacey played with the Nicky on the floor. “I don’t know much, but I do know that they grow heavy fast.”

“Great,” Sam said, but sounded less than thrilled. “Still haven’t figured out how to raise a kid on a battlestar.”

“That’s because there is no way,” Cally said with a rueful smile as she walked past.

“Hey there, Sam,” Galen said as he walked in, hands in pockets. “Stay for dinner?”

Kara would be late anyway, so Sam nodded. He couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up talking to Cally after work, something about carrying laundry.

“I think it’s funny you can adapt to everything but parenting,” Cally said as they all sat to the table, passing a plate to Sam. “Going from pyramid to on the run was easier?”

Sam, whose eyebrows had risen for a moment after her first comment, gave a small smile. “Yes,” he said shortly.

“Remember, he didn’t have the nine months to give him a clue,” Galen said, with a bit of happy remembrance on his face as he nudged Cally’s belly. She giggled under her breath, but rolled her eyes.

Sam knew he should smile at the idea of Kara pregnant, in all its ridiculousness, but he couldn’t. His first thought was of the farms, of the women he’d saved and failed to save, and how it was almost too late for Kara anyway. These people didn’t understand the way that the cylons they fought were a part of his daily life, part of Kacey. She was a child of the farms, and maybe Kara and Sam had rescued her like they tried with so many others, yet it wasn’t a joke. It never would be.

But in the mood of the good-humored friends around him, he did temper his regret of Kacey’s year lost from humanity with the thought that at least he and Kara had both been saved the disaster of trying to integrate a newborn into their lives.

ooo

Kara figured out just how airtight and soundproof the hatches on Galactica could be when she came home one night, and didn’t hear Kacey’s shouting until she opened the hatch and was blasted in the face with it.

A week or two ago, she might have flinched at the sight of her daughter flailing on the floor. But now, it was only too clear to diagnose a whining fit rather than anything wrong. And only clearer when she saw Sam standing calmly by the sink, gathering dishes for dinner.

“Kacey, that’s enough,” Kara ordered, walking in and shutting the hatch behind her.

“Doesn’t help,” said Sam over his shoulder without turning around, his voice barely carrying above the noise.

“Gods, Kacey,” Kara protested, and picked up the screaming child. Kacey arched her back as if to get away, but Kara held firm. “What is it?”

Kacey stopped for a second then, and grabbed at Kara’s dogtag.

“What, need a new toy?” Kara guessed. “Well, you can’t have these.”

She wasn’t quite prepared for Kacey’s wails to start again, full piercing volume, but had an answer ready. “And you’re not getting them if you scream either.” She rolled her eyes and, as Kacey tried to flail in her arms again, deposited her on the couch to finish her fit alone.

Walking back, she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, a little sharp in her irritation. She served up a plate of food for herself, as Kacey’s yelling filled the background noise behind her. “Gods, what happened to the quiet child we had?” she asked as Sam sat.

“No idea,” Sam sighed. “But no kids are ever simple, right?”

“’Specially not mine,” Kara muttered.

Sam tipped his head in acknowledgment, just as Kacey gave up on getting their attention, ending her cries and grudgingly ignoring them in turn. She played for a while until Kara decided she could have an early bedtime that night, and no, Kara wasn’t going to sleep next to her tonight. Kacey almost protested, but Kara’s look was solid, and so Kacey stubbornly buried herself under the blanket and refused to sleep...until sleep found her anyway.

Kara watched from the couch to make sure she didn’t get up or have a nightmare, but had only just noticed that Kacey was asleep when Sam sat next to her, almost collapsing. He sighed and looked around the room. “By the time you’ve dealt with them, the day is gone. That’s how it normally works, right?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Kara said, not quite paying attention. “It’s how it works here.”

Sam grunted. “No one could blame us, seeing as there’s no one to give advice. They’ve no idea.”

Kara snorted and looked at him. “Advice, heh. As if.”

Sam gave a dry chuckle back at her.

ooo

There were some times when Sam didn’t know which way was up. Some times when he felt he was spiraling down into parenthood and losing all sense of—everything. He stood in line with Kacey at the head, and Dee and Gaeta came up behind.

“Hey there,” they both said simultaneously, as Kacey popped her head over Sam’s shoulder, then gave each other a strange look on noticing the coincidence.

“Felix, Dee,” Sam acknowledged.

He didn’t know these people like Kara did, in any case. But his true ignorance fell on him like a brick a moment later.

“I swear Dee, we’re this close, _this_ close,” Gaeta said, hardly under his breath.

The person two spots ahead of Sam and Kacey went into an empty stall, but Sam’s attention stayed on what was behind him.

“Felix, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were teasing me,” Dee said with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Gaeta answered with quiet earnestness. “You know you’ve told me how much it means, Earth and all that. I don’t—I didn’t believe in the gods that much, in the prophecies. But this, this I know. And it’s all starting to fit.”

But as Sam suddenly remembered that there was a mission to the fleet other than flying around and escaping the cylons, suddenly Kacey’s voice was in his ear, a lingering whine of a, “Go, daddy.”

As if by rote, he helped her to a stall, but his mind stayed on the words. Earth, really? They were still trying for that? He’d grown small-minded, in all of this. After the vast hopelessness of the New Caprican resistance, he’d relished a simpler purpose, almost. But somehow, this little word that gave hope to others tickled at the back of his brain. He didn’t know if he trusted it, but he knew he shouldn’t have forgotten.

Still, it was some relief to mention it to Kara that night, see the startled look in her eyes, and hear her, “Oh. That.”

They both frowned at each other then. It wasn’t good to forget.

ooo

Kara found a place for herself on a corner stool in the pilot’s lounge, feet up on the table. Helo had come down again, and practically had his hands all over Sharon in front of them all. It almost made Kara uncomfortable—she didn’t think why, just went for another shot. That reminded her of collapsing in this corner, unable to drive Sam from her thoughts. Damn, sometimes she really sunk to pathetic levels. For all that she was starting to find ways to forget things in this place, it didn’t feel right.

Racetrack sighed and grabbed the other seat, prompting Sharon to self-consciously scoot off her husband’s lap just a couple inches. “So, remember my offer? You want me, I’m yours, Boomer.”

Sharon’s expression held for a moment, and then she smiled awkwardly. “Uh...Boomer was...someone else.”

Helo shifted quickly a little closer, a hand to her arm. His protectiveness didn’t smack of over-the-top to Kara this time, somehow. “Listen up, we need a new callsign for Lieutenant Agathon,” he called to the room.

Kara half-choked on her drink as the names flew across the room from all sides. They were entertaining for being idiots half the time. ‘Titania’ was a bit of a joke, so it almost worked. Her mouth twisted on hearing ‘Mayflower’, though—what was that?

Her eyebrow rose when Hot Dog spoke, almost looking straight at her, and she remembered the argument about callsigns that had ended with her cold threat to bash his face in until it was doglike enough to be ‘accurate’ the way he wanted. He’d picked up a little of the idea now, it seemed. There was something about that boy that reminded her of old days and basic flight; too much, sometimes, but when the nearer past weighed down she humored him.

As did Helo, as he and the now christened ‘Athena’ shared a particularly cheesy PDA. Kara just rolled her eyes, went with the flow of the mood here. It was why she had come anyway, to hide still-brittle nerves that had hit her today with a flash of memory as she’d pulled out a pair of chopsticks. In her mind they glittered like metal and smelled strong like blood, and the deep urge in her stomach to kill, frakking kill, returned. Not here, though.

Then another voice chimed in, and she heard Hot Dog’s toast, “To knowing...that someone will always have your back.”

So naive, she couldn’t even repeat the words in her head without them grating. But to all those who now raised their glasses, drinking with him, maybe it was a hope that they knew was partly moronic but needed to have anyway. And maybe there was always at least one person that fit the—

“The sentiment's good, but in my book, trust is an overrated commodity,” Tigh’s drawl managed to drown out the assenting in the room.

Kara looked up sharply, finally noticing the XO she’d known better back on the planet. “Frak that,” she said, as the room fell silent.

“Excuse me?” Tigh responded slowly, his one visible eyebrow climbing high.

“Traitors and backstabbers are a dime a dozen,” she said darkly. Then paused, downing the last of her shot before continuing, because damn she might need a bit of that hope too. “But when the crap hits the fan you know the few that aren’t,” she said, staring at him straight. “That’s what matters.”

“Until they fail,” Tigh said, flat and dry.

“You keep thinking that, then, until they don’t,” Helo said in a low tone, looking to the former XO.

Kara didn’t hear the rest. She didn’t need to. It had all played out in her own mind half a thousand times, and she’d found her answer. Found her few.

ooo

Sam called the day short when the news came in. Raiders were one thing, bogies on the edge of reality, and he wasn’t the only one to feel a moment of uncertain panic when he heard what they’d found now. But a dying basestar might mean just a little more to him, and his grip was almost vice-like around Kacey on the way back home.

He only unconsciously expected Kara to be there, but he didn’t show conscious surprise. “No CAP yet, frak it,” she said, not stopping her pacing when they entered, Sam closing the hatch behind him.

“They finally caught up to us,” Sam said, putting Kacey down and crossing his arms, just to put them somewhere.

She looked at him like he was an alien. “No, not that.”

“You know more,” he guessed, stepping closer.

“They’re on board,” she said. “Some skinjobs from the ship.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Interrogation, experiments, I don’t know,” Kara said, shaking her head, chewing at the inside of her lip. “But they’re infected, and it only affects cylons.”

She’d looked up at that last word, and when their eyes met they didn’t need to look to Kacey, Sam could see that her thoughts were just as centered on the oblivious child at their feet.

“Frak,” muttered Sam under his breath. Then he glanced up quickly, almost read the next answer in her eyes. “Is there—is one—”

“Leoben,” she said shortly.

He couldn’t meet her eyes then, just took a seat, clenched his fist and wondered if the fear or anger would fade first. It was anger, and thoughts of killing were replaced. “You think he’ll do anything?” he asked in a low tone, again not saying the word but letting his eyes explain his meaning, focused on the little one who couldn’t look less cylon if she tried—except looks meant nothing.

A long pause served as an answer for the moment, as Kara stood and Sam felt the conflict. Then, because maybe she’d grown accustomed to it, she spoke and sat by him. “He’s capable of anything, but I don’t know,” she said in tight words. Her hand jerked to her head, pushed her hair back from her eyes, a defensive move so she could see clearly. “But it’ll have to serve his purpose, whatever he tells them.”

The burning tension seemed to fade from the air for a second as her voice went cold. “That was the only reason he didn’t touch me on New Caprica; he knew I’d never see anything but potential murder weapons in that apartment then, and it wasn’t what he wanted.”

Sam’s stomach rolled over, and half a dozen fears both rose again and were quenched by her words.

“But anything that might help him, he’ll do,” Kara finished.

Sam’s hand shifted from the back of the couch before he could stop it, resting on her back, gently rubbing.

Kara held perfectly still. “It would have been better if he was more random,” she admitted with carefully crafted indifference, staring through Kacey instead of at her. “Or less bright. But knowing that everything, everything, fit into his plan somehow—” She sat up from where she’d leaned on her knees and didn’t finish the statement, eyes still out of focus with the room.

“On Caprica, when we found out that our Leoben was a cylon, that was the first thing that screwed us over,” Sam said, knowing down deep that he couldn’t offer any real sympathy and this was the kind of help that she could handle. “Not just betrayal, but the fact that we were manipulated. All we could think of was how many opportunities there were. He’s so obvious in his motivation, but the facts are confusing.”

Kara nodded once, and leaned back a little into his hand. “Maybe someday we’ll find that he wasn’t following any rules, that there was no way we could have guessed,” she said steelily.

But there was no way in any case, Sam knew. None of them could be expected to understand a mind so inhuman. And yet it rankled, and for Kara most of all.

ooo

They both breathed out when the word came of the mission to destroy the cylons once and for all. If it worked. Kara hadn’t been assigned to the mission, so a part of her didn’t trust that it would.

But just as they were preparing for the fight, for the mission that would lead them to the resurrection ship and the beginnings of this last plague—just then, she felt the cold fear of underestimation. Even dying, it was still Leoben. Even with his last breath he would always have something to do.

She knew the power he had over her life, Kacey’s, if he chose to speak to the president or Adama. Not now, not when all evidence might be washed downstream and they could live safely, would she let him twist that away.

“Sam, I need to finish a loose end,” she said, no emotion in her voice as she looked at him.

He met her eyes, and nothing else needed to be said. Their determination was similar enough to be readable in an instant.

Silently she made her way to the holding cell. Silently she watched her nemesis lie helpless and nearly dead. She demanded a moment alone, and the guard had no defense against the cold fire in her eyes.

She never saw his face before she stabbed him. He jerked upward, but she drove the knife in him again, even as the guard rushed in, all shock and horror. She finished the plan she’d always had ready. Leoben’s body writhed, the blood flowed out as it always had, but then he lay still. And she knew his soul was trapped for good, to rot away.

“Do you even have permission to be down here?” the guard demanded, a little frantic. “Don’t you know the plan?”

“He doesn’t live,” Kara said, looking straight at the guard’s face. “There are others. But he doesn’t live. That was the deal, and he knew it.”

The other skinjobs were alive; Kara didn’t look at them as she walked out, but it satisfied the guard. He closed the cell door behind her.

She turned a corner just in time to see Helo standing at a fusebox, fingers in the wires. He looked up at her, startled. “Kara?”

“Leoben’s dead, Karl, I don’t care what you’re doing,” she said, and just walked past him, bloody knife still in her hand.

“Just a few minutes early then,” she heard his voice behind her, and it almost sounded cold.

She heard of the later failure of the mission without emotion. She’d expected failure; there was no escape from cylons in this life. But maybe from Leoben.

Sam probably guessed what she’d done the moment she entered the room and walked over to the sink to wash off her knife. Kacey was out of the way, not a concern now that she was safe from _him_. Kara watched the red-brown water swirl down the drain, holding on to the edge of the sink. Then she felt Sam come up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“The only shame in it all is that payback can’t be taken slow enough,” she said, slipping the now-clean knife back into its holster.

“He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing how much it mattered,” Sam murmured, but she heard in his tone that he had contemplated all the ways to prolong death.

Kara didn’t turn to face him, but a tiny smile crept on her face. It didn’t rise to her eyes and it didn’t spell relief—but Leoben was dead. His chance was gone, and she couldn’t be tempted to run away again.

Sometimes, if you waited long enough, your plan came to fruition. She’d seen his blood drain out on the floor as she’d promised herself she would, and she wouldn’t need to forget again. Her kill was made.

“No more worries,” she said with deceptive simplicity, and her grip relaxed on the sink.

She heard Kacey somewhere behind them, heard Sam’s sigh of relief, and for all the chilled purpose before she now felt a warm rush of emotion. That night she slept well.


	10. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sam finally finished with his men after fourteen weeks, and handed them off to Borgen with a hearty handshake and honest “Well done” to each. Other than Hurchin, who consistently spoke to him outside of the professional capacity, he wondered if he’d ever see the others again. They were a team, bonded, and he’d been their leader. But they hadn’t gone through anything together, and now they had duties.

He didn’t forget them entirely, though, even with the next batch of recruits under his hands. It felt like the game after a big win; he had more security in his ability in this role, but also more anticipation that he wasn’t allowed to fail. As Borgen had added, after giving Sam his opinion that he’d done remarkably well (even given his experience), they still lacked in numbers. The fleet went too far, too separated, too discontent, for any force to truly make it secure. And the less secure it felt, the more restless it would grow.

So once again he caught himself up in his work, and it came as a surprise when one of his new people mentioned that there would be no session the next day.

“Hmm?” he said, confused.

“The dance,” said the woman, McMurdoch, deadpan. “You remember? We all get the day off.”

“Right,” Sam said, and frowned a little when she’d gone. He had dismissed it out of hand as pointless, but he still didn’t think like a military man. He guessed that it meant something to the others.

“Are you going to the dance?” he asked Kara when she came in.

She halted, and he wasn’t sure if he’d surprised her because it should have been an obvious yes, an obvious no, or that she just hadn’t thought about it. After a minute, though, she muttered, “Gods know I have enough reasons to.”

He accepted the implications behind that slowly, but it didn’t sit comfortably in his stomach. He served up Kacey’s food in silence, and was surprised when Kara spoke a few seconds later.

“But I don’t care enough, really.”

The flat words seemed honest, and Sam could believe that she wasn’t eager to bash anyone into a pulp. He’d been worried about that since all those weeks before, when they’d first gotten back and she seemed ready to snap. But with that concern out of the way again, the idea of the dance hit him differently.

He shrugged. “We could go and watch at least. Have a good time, let Kacey spend time at the daycare.”

Kara gave him a look that tried to be scathing in a we’re-supposed-to-be-on-the-same-team way—he wondered if she’d ever feel secure that no one suspected Kacey even remotely anymore, and it was fine to treat her like a normal child. But she dropped the look. “You want to go?” she asked him, sounding barely curious.

He shrugged again. “But if you go...”

Kara paused, but finally said, “Shouldn’t miss out.”

Sam wondered a moment later if unconsciously he knew that it was more important, given the way something twinged deep down in him.

But it was strange, the next night, when Kara finally convinced herself that she could hand Kacey off. Kacey was possibly more unhappy about it than Kara, which seemed to make it plain to Kara just how groundless her concerns were now. Kacey’s, on the other hand, were also made groundless, given the way the daycare operator seemed intimidated by Kara’s comments. If anything, Kacey would be given attention so that Kara would have nothing to complain about.

And then they went to the dance. The tone of it all drowned them as they came down the stairs, towards the crush. Sam felt the heady intoxication, hatred behind the outward kindness, grudges pulled out into the open to be conquered. His idea of a good excitement involved much less blood, but Kara’s grin didn’t surprise him—and he still felt the pull. They made their way to the front, and found Athena rebinding Helo’s hands.

“Hey, the fighting Agathons,” Kara said with friendly mocking, though her next comment came out dry. “Kicking the CAG’s ass, always nice.”

Sam glanced down to see that, yes, it was Lee opposing Helo. Bleeding, too, and not looking quite the match for Helo, who as always had a quality of assurance about him.

“Yeah, he’s a tough little frakker,” Helo said to Kara, who was caught up in the interest of her friends and their exploits. “Like he’s got it in for me.”

Kara and Sam leaned back a bit as the fight reconvened. Sam saw a tight smile on Kara’s face as she marked each blow, eyes close on the action. He wondered what Lee and Helo had against each other, unless it was still that matter that Kara had mentioned once, the fact that Lee still couldn’t quite trust Athena. But of all the things to hold a grudge about...

And then Sam noticed the light in Kara’s eyes, and knew that she was looking more closely at Lee than Helo. He swallowed, and in the chaos of cheering and booing around them, he couldn’t think quite what it all meant.

Helo all but plowed Lee into the ring, though, and the bell rang, Cottle and Tigh calling the round in Helo’s favor. Kara said nothing when Athena was all giddy excitement for her husband, she just watched as Lee walked towards Dee, just a few feet from them.

Then, a call, and Sam heard the artificial flatness in her tone. “Bit off more than you could chew, huh?”

Lee’s eyes smoldered bitterly as he looked back, and Sam figured out just why Kara came back from briefings all tense and frustrated.

The noise maddened the air, and Kara seemed ready to float on it, taking a couple steps closer to the CAG and his wife. “Oh, don’t be like that, Lee,” she said, mocking.

Lee walked to the table where the dogtags lay tangled, and as Kara turned, Sam saw her face and couldn’t read it. “I’m not surprised to see yours still around your neck,” he said crisply, picking out his tags without looking at her.

Kara’s face hardened then, and she pulled out her chain with only one tag, and hung it in front of his eyes until he looked up and met hers.

“Now who’s biting off more than they can chew, captain?” Lee asked in a low tone, barely heard above the bustle.

“Not me from where I’m standing, major,” Kara answered back with an edge.

Lee’s hand just dropped his tags back into the box, and turned to walk off. Kara’s followed. Sam barely caught Dee’s cautious look as she followed Lee off, too caught in Kara’s face as she walked to him. He felt the mood of the room start to emanate from her, no longer just an observer, and it didn’t feel good. It wasn’t what the plan had been.

“Guess you do care,” he said, and it wasn’t light enough to be a quip.

“Help me get these gloves on,” Kara said in an undertone, ignoring his question, handing him the red wrappers.

Sam just bit the inside of his lip and helped her, downcast eyes hiding the furrow in his brow.

“Frak him,” Kara muttered.

Sam looked up a little, took the plunge. “He’s bitter about something, right?” he asked casually.

Kara’s eyes stayed on her gloves for what seemed like a minute, then her look met Sam’s, and it was a hard glare. “I slept with him once, before we married.”

Sam could have guessed, but it stung, and his eyes dropped again.

Kara seemed to itch, tense. “Didn’t do it all because I was drunk,” she continued, a low tone that wasn’t entirely directed at him. “But I said a lot of stuff, none of it untrue enough.” She pulled her hands away as Sam finished the wrapping, reaching for the padded gloves. She added as if an afterthought, “And what’s worse?” She looked up at him, eyes and tone sharp as she seemed to warm up. “I always knew he’d do this. Ever since we met. Just thought he figured out why I—frak him. Frak.”

Sam swallowed, trying to feel satisfied, trying to feel that he understood and that her admission was worth more than the past. But after a few silent punches into the practice pads, she still pulled away and went to the ring, with anger that wasn’t from hate in her every move. Sam stood at the edge, and tried to close out the atmosphere around him to focus on what mattered.

Then the first punches were thrown. Watching Kara and Lee go after each other gave him nothing but pain. Every punch served the place of a word, words that (Sam guessed) Kara had been ready to say. Maybe she didn’t understand the hurt—not just the anger—that Sam had seen back on the planet, and could still see now. She hadn’t realized that Lee would never make the first move, because like her he believed himself a victim. And so he’d hurt her right back, and after everything that had happened she could kill him for it.

Just...not. They struck with force, and Sam could hear the strikes and the grunts behind them, hard and short. Not their hardest, though, and Kara taunted Lee once until he released all his power. Fresh bruises could already be seen, broken capillaries marking each spot where violence had spoken. Blood followed, and the unconscious crouching that spoke of deeper hurts. This fight would end with more than nicks and scrapes.

Sam broke his eyes away for a second as Lee dropped Kara to the mat, landing with enough force to send all the air from her lungs. Just for a moment. The brutality spoke too much of war, and hadn’t they left that behind? He saw Dee standing next to him, arms crossed, eyes open and fixated on it. He saw vulnerability there, and his heart rolled over.

Looking back, Kara had leapt to the challenge, sweeping Lee’s knees, getting them both to stumble back to their feet. But the cold fire in her eyes had wavered, and looking at Lee’s face, Sam didn’t wonder. The man hid nothing—except what Sam had to assume was there, behind the hurt and the hate. If all love had gone, he could have been much crueler. Kara’s next strike shook, and not just from the bruises and adrenaline.

Sam saw bitter regret in her eyes just before Lee stepped in too close, and they crashed into each other. Like most of the fight, they were too close, all personal space forgotten. More than friends and yet something Kara couldn’t accept—because she didn’t want it enough, Sam thought. Or didn’t understand it. Even when it was in her face.

“Let me go,” Sam heard her order through mouthguard, bloody drool at the corner of her mouth.

“No,” Lee said, as firm as he could, his whole mouth a mess from a strike across the gums.

“Never did get it, did you?” she tried to spit at him, but the words came out sloppy, and someone’s knees buckled.

“Just...shut up,” Lee tried to manage, tired, one eye swelling shut.

“No,” Kara said back shortly.

The crowds had gone quiet, even as the two in the ring didn’t seem to care. More grudge had been spilled in this match than any so far. Lee and Kara still stood, locked together to keep from hitting each other, until they seemed to be embracing.

“I missed you,” came Lee’s words finally, small and lisped through the rubber in his mouth.

Sam could see Kara’s eyes over Lee’s shoulder, saw a breaking in them. “I missed you too,” he heard her answer quietly.

Lee’s hand came shakily to brush through her long hair, some of it fallen out of its ponytail. His hand left bloodstains, but it didn’t matter, because then someone tried to move and one of them tripped and went tumbling to the floor. Tigh finally rang the bell, as Kara laughed painfully, rolling away from Lee.

“Get them out,” Tigh said with disgust, waving with his hand. “Draw. Draw.”

Sam moved quietly forward as Lee struggled to sit.

“Gods, did it have to take this?” he heard Kara mutter.

“I don’t know, did you have to make me a mess too?” Lee answered, grimacing. He managed to stand, lowering a hand for Kara.

She almost cackled with the insanity of it, but it seemed to hurt too much. She grabbed for his hand, but he tripped. “Gods,” Lee said, barely catching himself, a drop of blood falling from his chin.

“Hey, I got it,” said Sam, as he climbed up into the ring.

Lee gave him a look that said deep things, but he proved what Sam had just figured out—that he could be a decent man—and stepped back. Sam didn’t even notice Dee belatedly following him, saying nothing but handing Lee an icepack. Kara giggled pathetically as Sam helped pull her to her feet, the corners of her eyes damp with tears.

“Ah,” she whimpered into him as he put an arm around her waist, helping her down to the exit. “Ow, gods.” But she leaned against him.

Sam didn’t notice anyone else as he helped them leave the crowds, loud again as the next frustrated pair took the stage. The dance had worked, in a way. The chaos cleared, and a slightly less-broken mess was left.

“Sam, I need to get to the showers,” she murmured, putting a hand to her head and pulling it away with sticky marks.

“Mm,” he said. “And a doctor.”

She groaned under her breath. “I’ve taken worse.”

“From friends?” Sam offered, skeptical.

“Never again,” breathed out Kara.

Sam knew she was tired. He knew that Lee’s small offer had broken the tension for the moment. He hoped he hadn’t been misled in the look of understanding in the end. The hurt couldn’t be healed, but it could be patched. It had taken a patch of blood tonight, and now that it was over Sam felt the pain less.

He worried when Kara said nothing when he sat her down in the shower room and grabbed a rag, then had to set it down to help her peel off the blood-stained clothes.

“Frak,” she hissed as the shirt came off, and he noticed the spread of a large bruise. But she took the warm wet rag, and wiped her face and what she could see of herself.

“Overkill?” he asked as he brought over a few bandages, some bitter sarcasm in his tone from the thought in his head, that she looked like she had come back from a battle.

“It’s over now, that’s what matters,” she said shortly, grimacing. “Hold my hair,” she said, taking a small bandage and stepping over to the mirror.

But the tension in Sam faded at that, and he believed her because she wasn’t hiding. Strange as it was, there had been catharsis in the fight. He scooped the stray strands back from her face as she put a butterfly bandage on the small split on her temple. Then she sighed, and closed her eyes, and the blood was already pooling under one to make half a black eye.

“Kacey,” she murmured, head lowered.

“Right,” Sam answered, remembering.

“We need to get back,” Kara said. She grabbed a towel, wrapping it gingerly around her torso to hide that she only had on her bra, and Sam followed with the stained clothes.

He let his arm rest on her waist as they made it back, though Kara hadn’t been as beat up as it looked. Still, she didn’t push him away until he let go at their quarters. After popping a pain pill and rinsing out her mouth with clean water, she slipped on fresh clothes and lay back on the bed, sighing.

“Need anything?” Sam asked.

“’M fine,” she said, a hint of weary frustration.

He nodded, knowing for sure that things were okay. The woman on late shift at the daycare had only relief in her eyes as Sam came. Kacey was handed over, red eyed and sniffly, and he was told that she’d been crying for the past half hour.

She curled in his arms immediately, and wiped her face on his shirt. He had a sudden hope that none of Kara’s blood had got on him, but it didn’t seem to matter to Kacey. “So, daycare not so good,” he commented, more to himself, as they went back to the room. Figured, really.

Kara was lying on her side, back to the farthest wall, when they came in. She had her eyes half closed, and Kacey seemed to see her and be satisfied with that. After wiping up Kacey’s face, getting her a drink, and getting her into her pajamas, Sam made to tuck her in next to Kara and leave. It had not been a bad evening out, in the end.

But as he pulled the blanket up around Kacey and turned to leave, Kara’s hand came out and grabbed his arm.

He looked back, saw a tiredness in her eyes that looked like peace. “There’s room for three,” she murmured.

For a moment he just sat down, but she could only hold her gaze that long before her eyelids drooped. He breathed out and slipped into the bed.

Sometime in the night, Kacey crawled up on Kara; Sam was barely aware of her then, bruises still sore, pushing Kacey gently to the other side and close to the wall. He was almost gone when Kara rolled back, warm and solid against him. She sighed, and then he was asleep again.

ooo

Some things faded with the weeks, and Kara’s desire to get to her bird early in the morning was eventually one of them. There was something about private quarters that hit some of her buttons. No odd smells, no unwanted noises from nearby bunks, and room enough to stretch her legs under the (admittedly) slightly scratchy blanket.

“Late CAP?” Sam asked, as he came to wake up Kacey and found Kara still in the bed with her.

“No CAP,” Kara said, lying back with one arm folded behind her head. She felt oddly settled. “Took a day of leave.”

“You okay?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“Yes, I’m frakking okay,” she said, enhancing her tone of obviousness with a look thrown his way. “I deserve a day of leave, I take it.”

“I’m not protesting that,” Sam said with a little tip of his head. He leaned over, about to nudge Kacey awake.

“Hey, I got her,” Kara said.

“Hmm?” Sam asked. Leaning over the bed like this, he managed to be in her space without it feeling awkward.

“I got her today,” repeated Kara.

“That’s why you wanted off, got it,” murmured Sam as he stood up straight, nodding to himself.

“Don’t assume,” she chided with a bit of a snort. “But as long as I’m doing myself a little good, I might as well give her something. She’s my kid too—and probably bored sick of you.”

Sam stood for a moment, and she thought for a brief second that he’d ask if she could handle it. But he betrayed his true thoughts a second later. He glanced down at her, an odd light in his eyes. “Have fun,” he said, a suggestion hanging around his mouth in an amused smirk.

“Plan to,” she shot back, and heard one deep chuckle as he pulled on his jacket and walked toward the hatch.

But she didn’t plan that part, not really. The niggling part of this whole scenario made her want a day to see Kacey outside of Sam’s influence. To see if it still all worked. He’d come back into her life to inject it with a faith and trust that somehow she’d bought into, all along the road. And she still did; that was why they were here, and that was why she hadn’t run off to protect them both. Gods knew he’d been right about one thing at least, and she hadn’t damaged anyone like she’d wanted to. But that was what this was, a confirmation of that. There was no Sam and his optimism here. There was just Kara. And Kacey.

And even after more than four months at this, she still expected it to hit her where it hurt. When Kacey stirred and rolled over, her wet cold nose burying itself in Kara’s belly, Kara remembered that Kacey wasn’t her.

“Daddy?” murmured Kacey sleepily, as Kara pushed her intruding nose away.

“Do you use him as a nose-warmer too?” Kara asked dryly, scooting up in the bed.

In just a few minutes Kacey was bouncing off the bed and pattering her bare feet across the floor. Have fun, right. This would be fun.

“Daddy?” Kacey asked, confused as Kara tossed her a protein patty.

“Busy,” Kara said. “You’re hanging with me today, small fry.”

Kacey gave her a strange look, as if her world had been turned completely upside down. Kara rolled her eyes at her. “Come on, relax. It’ll be fine. Probably.”

In the end, though, Kacey barely touched her breakfast and wasn’t convinced of the reality of things until Kara swung her up onto her back when they headed out the hatch. She hung on with squirming zeal, arms just big enough to wrap round Kara’s neck and still leave room for her head to look all around. Kacey wasn’t the only child on Galactica, but the only one whose mother had the guts to walk her around the military levels.

After a couple odd but not totally disapproving looks reminded Kara of her first days on Galactica, she decided to make the comparison complete. “Hold on,” she said to Kacey, after pausing to stretch out a little, feeling a bit of weakness that shouldn’t have been there. She hadn’t seen the gym often enough. Well, that was what these corridors were for.

“Make a hole,” she called, the words familiar, as she started jogging with Kacey clinging onto her back and making occasional squeals of intrigue. They were a little piercing and sharp to Kara’s ear, but so far so good.

Then she passed Racetrack in civvies, though.

“Wow, Starbuck, really trying to own the ship, aren’t we?” Maggie asked, standing by the ladder up to the shuttle bay.

Kara paused, breathing harder than usual. “This ship used to be my blood and bones, Mags. After all I gave, it can take a little owning.”

Maggie shrugged, then nodded towards her. “So this is the rugrat?”

Kara’s mouth twisted.

Not needing an answer to come to a sensible solution, Maggie offered another comment. “Cute.”

“She is that,” Kara said dryly. Then, because what the heck, “Taking vacation?”

Maggie smiled to herself, and looked down at her T and soft pants. “Nah, just hopping over to Prometheus.”

Kara grimaced. “Junkpile. Why?”

“Better alcohol than here,” Maggie said. “They’ve almost got a selection.” 

“No, seriously?” Kara said, surprised and now interested.

“Yeah, they’re supposedly trying to get permission to get it transferred to Galactica,” Maggie said, a grin on her face despite the fact that she and Kara hadn’t spoken in almost weeks. “The shuttle traffic’s clogging up official work.”

For all the seriousness of the day, Kara smiled too. “My kind of town. Need to shower first, though.”

Maggie frowned. “What, you’re taking your kid to a bar?”

“I’m not going to buy her a drink, if that’s what you’re saying,” Kara said, her tone snappy at such absurd implications.

“Sure,” Maggie said, slightly defensive, since this was Starbuck after all. But she turned and started up the ladder.

“So there is a life in this fleet after all,” Kara murmured, half to Kacey, as they went to the shower room. The day would be well and truly started, if the Prometheus was as interesting as the word “bar” suggested.

Kacey in tow, Kara boarded the next shuttle to Prometheus, and exited to find the bay just beyond the main hanger full of random tables and chairs. A few men stood by some stills and bottles, trying to manage the orders of the men and women constantly coming up to them. Kara saw several games of triad, an arcade version of pyramid, dominos, and various other games. Not bad for something that was obviously just slapped together out of opportunity.

Kacey pulled on her hand a bit to look at the pyramid arcade, but Kara saw only drunk people, and steered her away. Finding a table with an abandoned triad game, Kara sat down and set Kacey in an adjacent chair. “Here, you can play with these,” she said, pushing the shaped cards towards Kacey. And then she grabbed a worn magazine from the floor, absently flipping through its pages.

Not so bad, really. Her life didn’t fall apart when it was in her control alone—a perverse surprise, but one she was secretly glad to have.

And then a card flicked into her eye, causing her to jerk and blink, the card landing in the drink she’d grabbed. “Hey!” she protested.

Kacey looked up innocently from the cards that she’d managed to tiddlywink in Kara’s direction.

Kara’s eye watered, and she glared at Kacey until the innocent look faded. “You’re lucky you’re a cute little thing, you know,” she said. And felt a bite of regret a moment later, and covered for it. “’Course, you’re not as tough as you’d like to think. I’ve handled bigger infants than you, believe it or not.”

Kacey just gave her a wide-eyed look, and Kara shook her head. “Yeah, you’d think you’d have more power over me, wouldn’t you? Too bad it’s all common sense, kind of takes away some of the—yeah, sure, look at me like that, won’t you. I get it, you don’t understand a word.” She took a sip of her drink, savoring the taste. But she added, “Just don’t tiddlywink me again; I need my eyes.”

As they rode the shuttle back to Galactica, Kara felt secure on one point, but nothing had changed. She’d just confirmed it. Somehow she’d formed a family, and yet it didn’t look like her fears. Maybe she was okay with that, as long as it stayed like this.

“You took her to a bar?” Sam asked, horrified, after coming back to their chamber that night and asking if it was a good day.

“Hey, relax,” Kara said, turning from the stove and waving her spoon at him. “She’s fine.”

Skeptically, he said no more. And she was satisfied.

ooo

The aftereffects of ‘the dance’ lasted for much longer than the yellowing bruises, something to be credited in Adama’s favor. Not all was wiped away, but knowing that the grudges were acknowledged by both parties made the punishment seem longer...and in many cases, enough that the two could cooperate again.

“You’re growing slack again,” Lee said, holding the edge of the ready-room podium, the light rebuke in his tone filling the room with more chagrin than any shout-out Kara had delivered. “Do you realize the state we’re in when Starbuck is on time, and none of the rest of you are?”

Only weeks before, his pointed glance would have fallen on Kara. Now, the words ‘no offense’ seemed to hover around his head.

“That’s right, nuggets,” Kara offered with half-disdain, from where she slouched across her chair, finishing a late breakfast. Ever since late nights had become prohibitive, she’d managed to maintain a regular schedule—and as much as he pretended shock, at least Lee didn’t ignore it.

Flying had slowly worked its way back into being a career, not an occupation. Lee didn’t regard her with pleasure, necessarily, but he kept a civility about himself that didn’t feel dishonest. Someday, she assumed, he’d get beyond even having to stick to that.

“You’ve been busy,” he called to her after one evening briefing, as the other pilots had disappeared to the strip poker and she didn’t join them.

She paused from where she’d stooped to grab her fallen pen, then stood up and turned around, flipping the pen through her fingers. “Yeah, for the past five months I’ve been busy. Busier.”

“Oh—right,” Lee said, catching himself.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t give him a bitter look, and he didn’t give one back.

“Busy suits you good?” he offered tentatively, gathering his notes.

“It’s life,” she said with a shrug, walking backward out of the room.

They’d manage to keep to talks like that, recently. Not close—their pains might attract each other like magnets, given the right proximity. But at least at days’ end, she could go home with less baggage that needed soothing.

And some nights Kacey went to bed early, and she was calm enough to stay anyways, thinking instead of doing. The couch, no longer Sam’s bed, gave her a place to put up her feet and let her mind spin. Sometimes she didn’t try to think, didn’t try to focus, just let the thoughts swirl in the back of her head, turning at some point into conclusions that would pop to the front. It didn’t feel like work that way, and it passed the time.

This night, Cally had returned an earlier favor of Sam’s and Kacey would sleep with the Tyrols, but Kara still took the time to think. She sat leaning back, Sam next to her with notes in his lap requisitioning more repair kits for the equipment he used. She’d asked how bad it could get, slightly incredulous, only to be met with a steady look and a “first gun course—fumbling—dropping—assembling incorrectly”, before she shook her head and kicked the side of his ankle with hers as she said “got it, all right.” Times like these she could forget that under all that professionalism was a civilian’s heart—one that she had come to count on more than she’d ever tell him in words.

She got up and poured herself a small drink, smelling the alcohol she’d brought back from the Prometheus, different from what was generally available on Galactica. The sensuality of those little things kept her focused; Leoben had given her a hate for the surreal that would never go away now.

But when she sat back down, Sam had finished, and scooted a little so she could lean her back against his shoulder. Sighing a little, she handed him her glass. He took a sip, hummed appreciatively, and gave it back.

Thoughts came to the front of her mind, this time in words. “You know,” she said quietly, after a long swallow. “If I thought this’d go on forever”—and she let her free hand point lazily around the room, ending on where Kacey usually slept soundly under the covers—”or eighteen years, or thirty-five, or whatever.” She swallowed again before taking another sip. “I couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t.”

“Mm,” she felt more than heard Sam agree, and she could guess that his head nodded too.

“But thankfully,” she continued, setting her glass down on the floor and sitting back up again, “all we got’s a year left or maybe two before the cylons catch up and blow our chances to bits. And I think I can handle a little whirlwind of terror for that much. Not Lee,” she added, “Kacey.”

Sam’s dry chuckle made the corner of her mouth quirk.

“No future to worry about, really,” she said, the quirk staying merely as a memory.

Kara heard Sam pause, then heard his soft words above her head. “A lot easier that way.”

A lot less frightening, she thought. But it wasn’t just Kacey in her mind as she considered her life as the last actions she’d ever do, not a pattern for a lifetime. She wanted more than a friend in her bed, Kacey or not. And she’d seen Sam’s eyes, the continual moments before he veiled them that showed he still remembered Caprica and New Caprica both, where desire was free and welcome to share with them.

She’d forced a space between them—long enough, now. “Sam,” she said, leaning further into him. His arm rose, resting on the back of the couch, and settling down to rest on her shoulder. “I want our marriage back.”

His hand, just starting to slowly stroke her shoulder, halted all movement.

Putting aside thoughts of safety, responsibility, family, guilt, all of it, she said again bluntly, “I want a real marriage.”

“Kara—” Sam started, almost hesitant.

She turned to face him, hand resting on his chest where his dogtags hung beneath his tanks. Catching his gaze, seeing the war of want vs. should in them, she made herself perfectly clear with a small smile. “I want to frak, Sam, really.”

There was only a moment for her to see the smile spread on his face before she was feeling it, as he leaned down to gather her mouth in a full kiss, lips warm and pushing against hers. She opened her mouth, eagerly inviting him in, not needing to push up to meet him as his hands pulled her. Too long, too long, too long, she could only think, as she pulled at the bottom edge of his shirts, fingers quick.

His hot breath mingled with hers as he made a humming noise, almost an aching groan, and started to roll them over. Like embers burst to light faster than green wood, they were almost shaking with readiness for all of it. Too ready, too fast, though it only became apparent as a problem as they moved too hard, and with a small squeak Kara fell tumbling off the couch.

She laughed under her breath as Sam looked silly, and didn’t care about the clumsiness as she climbed back up, pushing him back against the cushions and pulling at her clothes. He forgot the awkwardness just as quickly, and even with only so much space, he didn’t act as if there was any inhibitions.

His touch on her, in her, all over her—the warmth overwhelmed her with something more than the day-to day, and she gasped in the growing welcome chaos. It wasn’t their best frak ever, to be honest. They slipped again halfway through, almost falling to the floor again, and nine months of abstinence left a lot to be remembered. But through all the mess the pieces fit back together, and Kara crumbled jerkily onto Sam’s chest, her climactic shivers joining his. With his last energy, Sam planted several soft but earnest kisses on her forehead as she lay against him. She grabbed a blanket from the floor, pulling it over them.

Pleasantly weary, she didn’t plan to split the elements of herself again. Kara Thrace was soldier, friend, mother, wife, and none were anything more than portions of herself that she’d found. She wouldn’t deny herself, no matter the cost.

“Sam,” she managed, voice barely audible. “I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, as they surrendered to sleep together.

Discomfort only came in the morning when they remembered Kacey, and hastily unplastered themselves from their couch bed to fetch their child. But they were free to kiss goodbye, and that was almost as refreshing as the shower Kara took next.

ooo

Kacey did manage to prove awkward in the days and weeks to come, given her protestations at any time spent away from them, for Kara’s libido had jumped to the task. Sam felt his world growing more and more complete as he met hers, no matter what they dared—chance in the public showers, flexibility in a storage closet, or their daughter’s temper by bribing a friend to leave their room empty for a couple hours.

Sometimes, in those moments, they could almost forget the dragging frustration and fated deeds that filled the rest of their lives. Sometimes Earth didn’t matter, because they were never going to reach it anyways. They could lighten up, it was only the end of the world.

Even when it wasn’t light—when comfort, not pleasure, had them in each others’ arms—the world that they’d created held less to darken the day. And they gave it to Kacey as well as to each other.

But the rest of the fleet still held them, and the food grew short. Kara grit her teeth, pulled back her hair, and kept watch on her radiation patch as they flew through the storm towards a planet. They lost ships. Sam didn’t say anything to her, just tried to keep Kacey from seeing the worry. The risks were starvation for them all, not radiation.

Kara came and she went, and came and went, and the circles under her eyes grew. But it wasn’t her limit that broke her down in the end.

Kat died. Sam only knew of her by reputation, by the groans of frustration that accompanied any story from Kara’s day that she shared as they ate in the evening, by the rumors that she might outpass Kara one day and had no qualms in saying it herself. But she was in Kara’s life, and she died bleeding inside, and her legacy would be stronger than most on the ever-lengthening wall of death.

It was Lee who found Sam and Kacey coming home, told them the news with hollow eyes, another pilot and talent wasted in the vain fight for escape from the cylons. Lee’s eyes met Sam’s, and Sam swallowed and knew not to look for Kara at home. “Come on,” he said quietly to Kacey, leading the still-growing child away from the corridors that led to their chambers.

He opened the gym hatch, heard strikes loud and sharp, and saw Kara beating at a punching bag. Her hair hung around her face, and she seemed to stare straight through it, the target all that her vision acknowledged. Jaw tight, she didn’t let up.

Sam pushed Kacey towards the big rubber exercise ball, counting on her focus to hold her for the few minutes that were needed. Kara’s face was pale, sweaty, every muscle tensed. Silently, Sam sat on the bench by her, feeling his heart as shaken as if he had gambled death and someone else had paid the price.

“Thought I fixed it,” Kara gritted, almost choked, out as her punch sent the bag spinning and flying. She might not even have noticed his presence. “Thought it just happened to the people I cared about. No, that’s fine now, just—” Another punch, and her grunt was almost a cry of pain.

Then she stopped and grabbed her small towel. “Don’t ever die on me, Sam,” she commanded, words clipped with emotion as she waved to Kacey to come to her. She wiped her face clear, but it didn’t look any less haggard.

Sam didn’t need to nod as he rose, stepping close to her.

“And don’t let her die,” Kara said again, looking up at him with a fierce edge to her words. “Ever.”

Sam picked up Kacey, grip secure on her. “Always thought that was the deal,” he said, voice not quite calm as they started to walk out. “And you too—remember.”

“Yeah, that was the deal,” Kara said bitterly. “But the gods don’t want me dead until everything else is.”

“Not going to happen,” Sam said, quickly, firmly, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He kept his free arm tight around her waist, slowing his steps to match her shorter ones as they walked back together.

The journey was over; they would have food again. But rest that night didn’t come easily. Kacey fussed and refused to eat, and Kara silently refused to humor her, and Sam didn’t know what to do with either of them. Finally, though, Kacey seemed to see the emptiness in Kara’s face, and started crying for real. She sat on Kara’s foot, hugging her leg, almost weeping. And at last, Kara leaned down to pick her up and cradle her close, squeezing her eyes shut as Kacey wrapped her arms round her neck and held tight.

Sam gathered the dishes, gathered the mess, cleared everything he could to fill the time. Kara stroked Kacey’s hair and stared at the far wall, and Sam sat next to her when it was all done. Even their world couldn’t hold the outside at bay.

Kara shook her head after a moment, wiping her nose. “Oh, you don’t need to whine,” she chided Kacey lightly, standing to get her ready for bed. “Sam, her clothes clean?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, joining her to stand. “But they’re too small, really. We’ll need to find more.”

“For frak’s sake, and they were too big when you first brought them,” Kara said quietly. She shook her head again, and walked over to a cupboard. Rummaging around, she found an old t-shirt. After a sniff to make sure it was clean, she gave it to Kacey.

“That works too,” Sam said. So did they. People would die, they would move on, make due.

Kacey was tucked in a few minutes later, and rolled up against the wall, hugging one of her toys instead of Kara. Kara lay spooned against Sam, and he could feel her angry attempts to hold back hot tears. An hour later, still far from sleep, she turned to nuzzle against him. “Don’t die on me Sam,” she said, low and strong. “I said it. I meant it.”

He squeezed her tightly, guessing that in the moment she didn’t need words. They still couldn’t sleep, even though the fleet around them would be rejoicing in the prospect of food, even algae. Some losses hurt some people more than others. Kat had played Kara a harsh hand, and even with a different one, Sam felt it. Their people weren’t supposed to die, no matter who they were.

Sam couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t die. But in the silence and the dark, Kara pressed tiredly against his chest, he found words for something else. “I promise, if I die, I’ll come back as a cylon and be as good as new.”

Her choke sounded as much like horror as amusement. But after Sharon and Kacey, what was the idea of cylons to scare? She leaned up and kissed him harshly to stop his words that sometimes came so shabbily to him.

And so they slept, eventually, wound tightly in each other. Tomorrow, maybe, they would be ready to face the next task—and that would be algae. Kat would be another name on the list, and they’d move on.


	11. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Three days after they managed to orbit the algae planet, as they finally got a resupply mission set up, it was all hot sun and dirt for Kara and Sam. Sam, at the beginning, was an obvious choice. While the fully trained marines had more important things to be doing, Lee had requested the half-trained ones and Sam to help organize the civilian workforce helping to process the algae.

He’d requested Kara to handle the donut runs, the personnel escorting, anything that would be better suited in a Raptor. After a vague comment about the people on planet probably not being let up for the next couple weeks, she got the hint, knew why he was offering. It was a nice one, and when he added that the atmosphere and terrain were tough, and he wanted someone he could trust, she believed that too and gave him a bit of a smirk. She accepted, but frowned after he went.

The problem was Kacey. Then again, as soon as Sam had been transferred the problem was Kacey. She’d have to be housed somewhere else no matter where Kara flew; it might be easier, less yo-yo, if it was for the duration of this resupply mission.

So with gritted teeth, she gave a pointed promise to Kacey that she and Daddy would be back soon. A hug and a kiss sealed the deal, and so, feeling strangely certain that she would miss the comfortable evenings, Kara left Kacey with the newly formed long-term childcare services to make her first run down to the planet.

The planet blew. She first said it to Sam, managing a few minutes of downtime together that first night. Were it not so serious, however, she might have commented on his abandonment of any thought of cleanliness. She wondered absently if after two weeks his tattoo would completely disappear under the dirt. Yet, when she closed her eyes to block out the rest, it helped lighten the picture.

Still, the planet blew. She said it next to Cally the day after, having been recruited to help move a particularly heavy pipe. The bristle in the dirt bit at their legs, even through their pants. The sun didn’t shine directed, just filled the entire valley with a heat glow, and even the breeze blew warm.

“I’m never complaining about mechanic work again,” Cally said, wiping the brow beneath her bangs.

“Sucks that it makes ship life look appealing,” Kara said dryly, wondering if there was water without algae that she could douse herself with, just once.

“Hey, no socializing,” Galen called, lumbering over with a clipboard in hand.

“Go to hell, Chief, you don’t outrank me,” Kara said, crossing her arms and making the comment seem light.

“Heh, yeah,” Galen said, a weary bit of a smirk. “You’re wanted in the main tent, something about a briefing.”

Lee had a map out on the table and Dee was taking notes. Sgt. Mathias was there, too, with a few marines Galactica had decided now could be afforded.

“We’re going to need at least four runs tomorrow,” Dee said, looking to Kara as she entered.

“Frak, now what?” she said, crossing her arms, looking at the progress they’d marked on the map.

“Let’s wait for everyone to get here before we discuss,” Lee said, frowning as he put another pin down.

“Who are we waiting for?” Kara asked, glancing around. “Sam? Really?” It wasn’t like him.

As if on cue, the tent flap pushed aside, and Sam almost had to duck to enter. The instant he looked up, though, Kara saw the tightness in his brow, and a worry in his eyes deeper than any she’d seen there before. “Kara,” he said, the name sounding cut short. “It’s Kacey.”

Her heart twisted, and she tore her eyes away from his to look at Lee.

He looked surprised, but gave a curt nod.

Kara didn’t nod back, just moved around the table and out of the tent all in an instant. Sam already had a few steps on her, going towards the Raptor.

“What is it?” she asked under her breath as she slipped into the cockpit a few seconds later.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, buckling in for the ride. “And I don’t want to imagine—” He shook his head, biting back something. “All they said was that something was wrong, we needed to come up.”

“Gods, why that?” Kara snapped out, pulling the throttle harder than necessary as they flew up off the surface. “Of all the ways to say—”

Sam’s mouth was tightly shut, and he said nothing as they flew into Galactica’s bay. Only a few hallways over from there, and they approached the makeshift childcare center aboard.

“What the hell was that?” Kara demanded, stepping towards the woman in charge, who stood waiting for them at the broad hatch.

“Your little girl’s sick, I thought you’d want to know before I took her to Cottle,” the woman said, stepping back.

“Good decision,” Sam said shortly, as Kara started to push past and go into the playroom. “Next time make that clear in your call.”

“S-sorry,” the woman said, stumbling a little.

But the momentary relief, knowing that it was normal enough problems, didn’t hold Kara as soon as she saw Kacey.

“Oh no,” Sam breathed out behind her, seeing where Kacey lay curled up on one of the mats.

“Oh Kacey,” Kara said, moving in, kneeling down. Kacey’s face seemed pale beneath a bright red flush, her hair flattened by sweat, and as they drew close, her breathing seemed to catch on every pass through her throat. Kara felt her own heart throbbing with pain as Kacey barely stirred when Kara touched her forehead and felt the fierce burn of fever.

“She’s not—she’s not good, is she?” Sam said, voice breaking, not really asking the question he already knew the answer for.

Kacey seemed almost like dead weight, fevered dead weight, as Kara carefully picked her up. “How did this happen?” she asked under her breath.

The childcare woman had followed them, twisting her hands.

“You let it go this far?” Sam turned to ask her, anger rising above the shock in his voice.

“I didn’t notice,” the woman protested, but didn’t step any closer to the two. “There are so many here, and she never played much—sometimes she just cried in a corner when I told her you wouldn’t be back. It was difficult, but I couldn’t do anything. It was only this morning that she seemed not to come out of it, and then it happened so fast.”

“Gods,” Kara started, as if about to rip into the woman.

“Kara, Cottle,” Sam said, gripping her arm.

So Kara just glared and walked off, Sam at her side, her child not even clinging to her in the fever that raged through her body. Somehow this was worse than anything, because she couldn’t even blame herself.

“Kara, I know what will happen, but Cottle needs to see her,” Sam said intensely as soon as they were a few steps away, turning to face her and putting a hand on Kacey.

“Don’t think I don’t know that,” Kara said back, quick and harsh-sounding. Her eyes closed tight, her face clenching as she held herself together. “Don’t think I don’t care enough—”

“I don’t think that, Kara,” Sam said quickly, words low and sharp as he lay his hand on her shoulder. “It has to be said, though, it has to be—”

“It doesn’t matter, Sam,” Kara said, looking him straight in the eye. “It doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly, anticipation of pain in his eyes. “I know it doesn’t.”

ooo

The infirmary had few people standing round, given the mission on the planet below. Cottle himself was available as soon as Kara and Sam walked in, and he pulled them over to a hospital bed at once. Kara set Kacey down and stepped back a pace, one arm crossing her chest, the other raised to her mouth as her brow remained furrowed.

“Ishay, pull her records,” Cottle snapped out, careful hands examining Kacey’s outer signs. She looked even paler under the bright infirmary lights.

“There won’t be any,” Sam said in a low voice as he stood by Kara. “She’s never come in.”

“Don’t be absurd, unless she was born on New Caprica, which she can’t be—”

“She’s big for her age,” Sam cut him off. He glanced to Kara while Cottle was looking away, gauging what she thought would be the right timing.

“Then godsdamnit, why didn’t you bring her in?” Cottle stopped, turning to face them both, more worry than anger in his face. “There’s a scar on her forehead, care to explain that?”

“We weren’t negligent,” Kara said, matching his look and dragging out her words as if she didn’t really want to go this direction. “She didn’t need anything sooner.”

“Utter crap,” Cottle retorted brusquely, clearly upset. “I should have known when I heard about this kid through rumors, should have known that you’d need someone to give you the basics on what to do—”

“Oh frak that!” Kara shot back at him, her crust of self-contained worry cracking. She looked back at Kacey, then straight at Cottle. “There was a damned good reason we didn’t bring her in, and it was because she would have been in danger, so don’t, don’t go trying to call us on bad parenting.”

“Listen, young lady,” Cottle said in a low tone, crossing his arms. Behind him, Ishay quietly brought over equipment. “You need to explain yourself better than that.”

“We didn’t adopt Kacey,” Sam cut in.

Cottle looked at him. Sam just stood, arms lightly crossed to keep his hands from becoming restless in the emotions that crowded his heart.

“I’m Kacey’s mother,” Kara said, her voice dropping.

Cottle snorted. “Can’t be, there’s no way you were ever pregnant.”

“No, I didn’t choose her in the beginning,” Kara said, dropping her other hand to half-hug her chest. “The cylons did.”

Cottle’s eyes widened.

Sam knew there would have to be more words, but that was the death knell more than anything. He stood by Kara, and waited for it.

“Are you going to help her or not?” Kara demanded, tense again.

“If this is going to go over well,” Cottle said, voice calm as he looked pointedly from Kara to Sam and back again, “you’ll need to stop making assumptions, especially about my medical ethics. Now, this child is very ill, and you need to stand out of the way and let me do my work.”

He turned back to the hospital bed, where Ishay stood waiting, lips tightly pressed. “Ishay, I’ll need all the files on Hera Agathon,” he said in a low voice.

Kara stepped back another pace as Cottle took out a thermometer and blood pressure unit. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of the scene, and Sam just wanted to look away. They weren’t supposed to be here—Kara, Kacey—this was a place of death, and after all the farms he’d seen on Caprica, he’d never wanted to see another hospital again. So instead he moved closer to Kara, reaching down to grip her hand, keeping his focus on her and Kacey and pushing out all the rest.

Kara’s grip on his hand was like death, and he wondered if it would all fall apart. He couldn’t lose this, not now.

ooo

Kara had no way of telling just how long it took for Cottle to approach her and Sam. It hadn’t been long enough for her fierce handgrip on Sam to weaken, but she was using all her strength in this moment. She feared failure. She feared that she’d deluded herself into thinking that she’d settled well.

But Cottle came around, and he didn’t look hopeless.

“It’s a virus,” he said bluntly. “That much we can tell from the bloodwork, and the symptoms match. I’ve started her on an IV of antibiotics, and we’ll just have to hope they work on half-cylons.”

Kara flinched at the last word—it sounded different coming out of his mouth than hers or Sam’s. It sounded wary, suspicious, dangerous.

“And on that matter,” Cottle said, dropping his tone just slightly. “I ran a DNA check—Kacey is your child, despite you not having borne her. I’ll need to report this, and I’d like to have a basic story before I send the president’s office into a paranoid uproar. Is this related to the scan you had me do two years ago?”

Kara nodded, clearing her throat. “The cylons on Caprica took my ovary, and one of the Leobens used it to create Kacey, using a human mother as surrogate. I didn’t know about it until a few days before the exodus; I killed the bastard, took Kacey, and came back here. Everything else has been to keep her safe.”

Cottle glanced to her left.

“Kara’s my wife, Kacey’s my daughter—that’s it,” Sam said shortly. Kara felt his own grip start to match hers, and their knuckles had to be white the way they were holding onto each other.

“Well, don’t panic for now,” Cottle said smoothly, but gravely. “Your child’s not in any danger, assuming her fever doesn’t get worse. But it’ll be a tough road for her. I’ll have Ishay move her a little out of the way, give you some space if you want to stay close. And until you know more—I’d do that.”

Kara saw Sam nod once out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t have anything to do. The doctor turned, and she knew where his next call would be. Then what—she had no clue. But if it was anything like her nightmares, she wasn’t going to hang up her gun belt, even in the infirmary.

It only took a few minutes for Ishay to follow Cottle’s orders, find the nearest empty curtained-off space. Giving a keen eye to the both of them, she advised that they use the sink nearby to clean up a little, and disinfect their hands for that matter. Kara heard her words but paid her no attention.

Only the notion of safety had her leaving Kacey’s side, even just a few feet, to wash herself up. The cool water felt almost warm on her skin, tense with the icy stubbornness she’d found to keep back the worry. It also soothed, just a moment. Sam was cleaned up as well when she turned back, and had pulled two stools to Kacey’s side.

Kara had to look closely again at her daughter, and didn’t like the way her throat choked up at the sight. Against the pale blue of the bedsheets and pillows, Kacey’s skin looked almost white, the cold rags previously administered easing the flush of the fever. Dark circles lay below her wide eyes, wearily closed as she slept. Mostly, Kara didn’t notice what she looked like on a daily basis, but every inch of her now told her that this was wrong.

Not just because it almost recalled another hospital scene. This time it wasn’t her fault, or Leoben’s—it hurt, but she couldn’t blame anyone. And that almost frightened her, that this just _was_. Her anger came through more than any fear, though.

She put out her hand to touch Kacey’s non-IV’d one, and whispered harshly. “I hate this. I don’t know what I was thinking, taking this on in the beginning. I didn’t want this, I don’t want this, I—why did I accept it?”

Sam covered her hand with his, but said nothing.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but some time in the night she woke up; Sam leaned up against the bed, sleeping with his arm serving as a pillow, and somehow she’d leaned over and rested her head in his lap. Her neck would kill her in the morning, but she didn’t want to find anything else. She needed to stay here. Cottle didn’t wake them; when she woke up again, it was to him quietly taking Kacey’s temperature.

Kara nudged Sam as she sat up, feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all.

“She’s fine,” Cottle said, before she opened her mouth. “Her fever is already down—her immune system must be strong.”

Kara didn’t feel encouraged much, and the little bit of worry that slid off her back just made room for more worry about other things.

“Your people have been informed that you’ll be out of commission for today at least,” Cottle explained next, as they sat up, reluctantly preparing for the day. “But you’ll have to leave in a little.”

Kara sat up straight immediately, and Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“The admiral and the president have asked for your presence,” Cottle explained flatly. “On Colonial One.”

“You’re kidding,” Sam said incredulously. He glanced to Kacey, who Kara noticed looked slightly less dramatically pale.

“They want to die that much, they should try an airlock,” Kara growled. “We’re not leaving.”

Cottle’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything, just went on to the rest of his business. Kara rubbed at the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache rising. A couple moments after Cottle had left, she said quietly, “We really took on this mess, didn’t we.”

“It didn’t have to be a mess,” Sam sighed. “We didn’t choose that part.”

“No, but we knew it was coming, that was the whole point,” Kara answered, looking at him.

Sam held her gaze. “I knew I was sacrificing something then. I still accept that, no matter how bitter the end.”

“It won’t be bitter,” Kara said, a whisper that came out harsh. “There is no way they are taking our child, Sam. It’s not happening.”

“Won’t let it happen,” Sam agreed, nodding, taking her hand and squeezing it.

ooo

Sam had no plan of what would happen, but sat stubbornly with Kara by Kacey’s side as the day progressed. Cottle didn’t return, and neither did marines to escort them forcefully. He took some vague comfort in the fact that he and Kara still had sidearms, if it came to that. The resistance side of him was beginning to rise, despite his desires to stop the war in his life.

In the afternoon, however, a visitor came and it wasn’t unwelcome.

“I heard as soon as Adama sent the order,” Helo said, face grave as he approached them with Athena at his side.

“It’s true, isn’t it,” Athena asked, looking Kara in the eyes.

“Of course it’s true, it was Leoben in question,” Kara said, not as snappy as usual but managing it despite her weariness.

Athena nodded, cold faced but with pain in her eyes. “That’s what we thought.” She looked up to Helo.

He stepped forward, looking down to Kara with quiet gravity. “Kara, Sam, look, we’re the only ones who know how you feel. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right, but you’ve only got a few options. And the admiral’s going to make another demand to see you, and you’ll have to accept if you want to keep your ties. We’re on your side, and we don’t plan on letting them do to you what they did to us.” He looked back at Athena, seeming to swallow a lump in his throat.

“So we’re going to stand guard over her,” Athena explained, indicating the pistol at her side as she walked to the other side of the bed. “Anyone gets near without your permission, we’ll shoot them.”

Kara laughed mirthlessly. “Karl, was this your plan?”

“Kara, it’s not a joke,” Helo said, nodding to her. He put out a hand to her shoulder. “Go, talk to them, make your case. You’ve got one, we know. They just need to open their eyes.” He looked up to Sam.

“Kara?” Sam asked softly, leaning to her.

She turned, biting her lower lip. “I can trust them, Sam.”

“Good, so can I,” he answered. “Thank you,” he said in a louder tone as he stood, grimacing as the crick in his neck pained him.

“It’s the least we can do,” said Athena, nodding.

Sam bent to kiss Kacey’s forehead before they went, as Kara paused to stroke her hand. Then, taking their stride together, they walked out. Two marines were waiting in the hangar bay by the shuttle, and Sam had a feeling that this meeting would be just as bad as they’d predicted. But he and Kara weren’t being stopped yet, and they were prepared to use everything they had.

ooo

Roslin looked fidgety as they walked into the room where the Quorum usually sat, but Adama was motionless at her side. Kara and Sam took seats opposite and crossed their arms coldly. Now that she looked closer, Kara thought Adama looked disappointed. Not angry, though, which was something in their favor for the moment.

Roslin settled her hands on the papers in front of her, sitting up straight. “Do you want a chance to explain yourself before this meeting goes further?” she asked.

“No,” Kara said shortly. “If I felt you needed to know, I would have told you before.”

Already, the short distance across the table between them felt like a bottomless trench of disparity.

Roslin spoke again, this time with less-dismissive formality. “Captain Thrace, Mr. Anders, are you not members of the Colonial Fleet? No, don’t answer. The real question is, do you swear your loyalty to the elected government over this fleet?” She was cool, smooth, prepared.

“Were you elected this time?” Kara asked, one eyebrow rising, refusing to fall into this diplomatic farce. “Because I’m sorry, I don’t remember that.”

She saw Sam slightly turn towards her, as if about to say something, but he then looked straight again. She was right, and he couldn’t have anything against what she said once he thought for a moment.

There was a pause as they all moved past that point.

“I expected better of you, Kara,” Adama’s low tones followed.

Kara felt her chill falter for a second, glancing to the face she’d once looked to for all direction.

“After all we’ve suffered,” Adama continued, not even leaning across the table towards her, “you hide an enemy among us.”

Kara’s guard was off just long enough for Sam to retort.

“You’re not serious, right?” he said rhetorically. “Have you even looked at her—Kacey?”

Kara followed quickly. “She’s not the enemy, she’s my daughter,” she said sharply, feeling the connection to Adama break once again.

“I know you believe that—” Roslin started easily.

“No—no—” Sam broke her off.

“Don’t try that,” Kara said, continuing on from him. “Don’t act like you’re so black and white, when you were all ready to accept Sharon who was ten times more likely to be an enemy than Kacey.”

“The question is not about whether that child is or is not the enemy,” Roslin answered, unfazed and giving a straight eye to them both. “It is about trust.”

That seemed to strike Sam’s nerve. “Yes, it is,” he broke in. “And the answer is that we trust our own humanity to judge better than propaganda. And,” he added, “I don’t care whether you like that, because I didn’t fight all these years for that, I fought for what’s right.”

Roslin’s lips pursed, but it was all the emotion she showed. Adama still sat behind a film of military professionalism. “Look,” Roslin said, sitting forward, “it’s very right of you to defend your child, as you see it. But let’s look at something that matters more than that. If you thought there was any danger posed to the fleet by that child being present, would you speak up?”

“If you’re trying to paint us as traitors, it won’t work,” Sam started.

But Kara had a better answer, and planned to stop Roslin in her carefully planned tracks. “No, I wouldn’t say anything to you. I would get Kacey away from the fleet where both would be safe from each other.”

“Damn right,” murmured Sam, looking at Kara, and the conviction in his eyes only bolstered hers.

Roslin sat up, and closed the file in front of her. “Thank you, then, that’ll be enough,” she said crisply.

Kara stared at her for a moment, then looked to Adama. But both leaders kept all thoughts from their face. And so Kara and Sam rose and left.

The shuttle ride back was silent, nothing being resolved. Karl and Sharon were still standing by Kacey when they reentered the infirmary.

“What happened?” Karl asked.

Kara sat down by Kacey and reached out to stroke her hair, bitterly finding words for what had just happened as she related it to Hera. “I should never have doubted you back then, Sharon.”

“She’s not much more than a thing to them,” Sam’s disgusted voice sounded above her head, as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “You could hear it in the words they chose. And it’s just what we thought would happen, just why we were trying to keep it close.”

“Sam,” Sharon said grimly, stepping towards him. “You don’t think we’d stand by and let this history repeat, do you?”

But though Kara looked up, and felt a ring of ice-fire determination between the four of them, no one said anything else.

“We’ll leave you in peace for now, all right?” Karl finally said, putting a hand warmly on Kara’s arm. “But we’ve got your back outside.”

“Thank you,” Kara said quietly.

Alone again with Kacey, there was nothing to say or do, just sit. Ishay brought them food after a couple hours, though they could tell from her demeanor that it had been Cottle’s move. Sam had moved to take Sharon’s spot on Kacey’s other side, facing Kara across their daughter’s bed. Once the food was gone, and they felt a little more energy, they kept watch with renewed stubbornness. Eventually, each of Kacey’s hands was clasped in theirs, safe and warm.

ooo

The moment of relief came in the late afternoon when Kacey’s eyes flickered, her face looking pale but not heated. Kara leaned in, and Sam felt half the load on his heart lighten. Kacey’s eyes were bleary and dull with sickness, but she looked to each of them, and a bare smile crossed her lips.

Sam’s gaze met Kara’s a moment later, and he felt a silly relieved smile on his face, and saw it reflected in hers. This problem, at least, was working itself out.

Cottle came in to check up a little later, and Kacey managed to stay awake the whole time. She whimpered a little, grasping for Kara as her IV was adjusted, but Kara held her other hand and Sam whispered quiet words to her. Cottle brought some gentle food for her, and she seemed to calm as soon as they tried to feed her. The food made a mess, and Kara laughed, brokenly, but appreciating this different kind of difficulty.

They’d just finished when they heard a noise and Sam looked up to see Adama. He jerked back a little, defensive immediately, and Kara went stock still. But the admiral didn’t say anything, brow wrinkled and mouth set in a grave line. He walked closer to the bed, looked down at the now-drowsy Kacey, and didn’t move for a full minute. Then left without saying a word.

Kacey fell asleep again as night approached, and as Sam started to feel the wear and tear of the day bringing him down as well. The lights had been darkened when they heard noise yet again, and Sam looked up to see an Adama again. But it was Lee this time.

“Kara,” Lee said quietly as an opening. He stood calmly, hands at his side.

Kara’s gaze as she looked up seemed full of dread, and her hand remained resting on Kacey’s.

“Should I give you a moment?” Sam offered in a low tone, thinking that maybe it needed to be asked.

“No, Sam, it’s fine,” Lee said, looking to him for a moment. Then he looked back to Kara—and Kacey—and let his eyes rest there for a moment. “Listen, Kara, I’ve known you for a long time. And I’ve seen you make mistakes.”

Kara froze visibly, and Sam’s blood started to boil.

“But I trust your convictions,” Lee followed, looking Kara in the eye. Sam’s blood calmed. “You don’t go wrong on those,” Lee admitted, “and—and more than that, Kara, I’m your friend.”

Kara dropped her eyes for a second, swallowing.

“So even if I didn’t think you were right,” Lee continued, “I wouldn’t stand around and let them hurt you. Either of you,” he added a moment too late, but the meaning was there all the same and Sam understood it.

Kara said nothing, just looked down at Kacey’s hand and stroked it again, face tightly set.

“I’ll talk to my dad,” Lee said after taking a deep breath. “He listens to me, and Roslin listens to him. Kara, I’m not going to let them upset your applecart.”

Kara looked up then, and offered him a bare smile. “Thank you, Lee,” she said honestly.

“Take care, okay?” Lee said with a nod. He turned and gave a light nod to Sam before leaving as quietly as he’d come.

Lee had never been Sam’s favorite person in the world, but in that moment Sam thought he saw a possible light at the end of the tunnel. He looked to Kara, remembered Karl and Sharon and even Cottle as well as Lee. Her face was tired, but didn’t look ready to attack. Maybe they both trusted that Lee would get the job done. Sam decided before he fell asleep by Kacey’s bed again that he did.

 

** _A/N: For if you're asking, 'wait a minute, what exactly's AU in this universe?'_ **

_So far, it would be easy to assume that Kara was deceived by Leoben, just like in canon, right? Except here, Julia wasn’t there to set her straight. Well...that is the main difference from canon, but that doesn’t mean Leoben was wrong._

_When it comes to cylon/human hybrid children, I choose to reject RDM’s authorial intent and twist canon to my own purposes. In my canon, Ishay and Cottle lied to Tyrol about Nicky’s fatherhood because they knew that Tyrol wasn’t at a place where he was a fit parent, and Hot Dog was an easy alibi because of Cally’s admitted discretion. Also in my canon, Leoben was only lying about Kacey’s surrogate mother dying in childbirth, not about the origin of Kacey._

_Given the way that Hera is very small for her early life, then has a huge growth spurt at about two, I applied the same logic to Kacey and decided that despite her size she could be Kara’s genetic child. Nicky does not have the same growth spurt because of the genetic differences between the Eight and the Final Five._

_As for how I get by the point that only Hera is important in canon? It is entirely symbolic. Everyone knew about Hera, and she was the groundbreaker for all the hybrid issues. Not because she was the only hybrid, though, in my opinion. Leoben’s experiments with Kara and Kacey were secret (because conducted without love, they could have been seen by the other cylons as “sinful” by the time of Season 3), and Nicky wasn’t revealed as a hybrid until the end of Season 3. Lies and misunderstandings kept these children from being fully acknowledged as cylon/human hybrids, hence they did not have symbolic importance, hence they were not given a “destiny”._

_That’s my canon, and I’m sticking to it._


	12. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Upon waking the next morning, Kara found herself feeling twitchy. Kacey woke, looking more like herself than before. She reached for Kara, and Kara dismissed any thought of rules by picking her child up and settling her in her lap. Kacey leaned tired and a little weak against her, IV still in her arm.

Cottle came by later with sharp, grumbling words at the sight of Kacey out of bed. Sam woke up at that, surprised but quick to focus. Cottle gave them what they wanted to know—Kacey’s immune system was fighting back powerfully, and already he could lower the dose of antibiotics. In a couple days, she’d be all but healed; it was a fast striking but also fast leaving virus.

Sam looked to her once Cottle left, but Kara had nothing. No news from the outside, just waiting. What would Adama do? What would Roslin do? Kara didn’t particularly care, and certainly didn’t care to worry. Something else was bothering her, and after handing Kacey to Sam and finding breakfast for them all, she started to grasp onto it.

She didn’t know what to do with the time they had. Like Kacey herself, maybe, she could find little to do—and until a verdict arrived, she couldn’t plan anything else.

It reminded her too much of New Caprica. So much of her memories of that time she’d managed to break into smaller, more manageable pieces. She’d found distraction and a changing focus back on Galactica, changing her environment too. Like all the survivors, she’d never truly grow past it, but a growing sense of being trapped reminded her just how much she’d put behind her. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to let this ship become another doll house, and wouldn’t let the leaders she’d respected turn into cylons.

Restless, she said nothing as she and Sam tried to keep Kacey occupied until she fell back asleep, waiting on edge for whatever might be said.

A few hours later, they were both surprised when Lee delivered the news.

“I’m not sure how much I helped,” he admitted, “but you’re safe for now.”

Kara looked skeptical.

“The president, gods know why, has decided that it’s unlikely that a half-cylon child would be a danger to humanity,” Lee continued. “Obviously we can’t know for sure, but she seems fairly convinced. And given that she’s part human, there’s an obligation for the Fleet to protect her. Especially if you two make it a legal adoption, as two human parents.” Lee paused, as Kara felt her chest constrict her less. “And above that, both the president and my father have signed Kacey’s diplomatic immunity in the Fleet. She’s to be granted the rights of any other citizen, including military protection, and there will be no charges held against you.”

They were just words, though, until Kara looked to Sam and saw a weary smile play at the corner of his mouth, and saw the little squeeze he gave Kacey as she sat cradled in his arms.

“We’re grateful, Lee,” Sam said for both of them, looking up.

Kara nodded, giving Lee a small smile. She’d said all her words before.

“Oh, though there’s one thing,” Lee added, grimacing a little. “You’re not being actually charged, but the admiral thinks your behavior indicates a need for cool-down time. So you’ll be off duty for a week, both of you.”

Kara frowned, but Lee shrugged apologetically and walked off.

“Guess we went a bit over the top, if it was going to be this easy,” Sam said, pursing his lips a little as he thought.

“No, we didn’t,” Kara said back, looking at her hands for a second. Adama and Roslin weren’t easy, not about things like this.

She could almost hear Sam thinking before he replied after half a minute. “Do you think they’re afraid of us? Of our influence?”

Kara gave a dry chuckle. “We’re not cylons, Sam.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “And we won’t just fade away. Karl and Sharon, they want to do what’s right for everyone, and they’ll forgive and forget to keep it. Or at least act like they do. I think the old man knows I’m not that, and I think we proved it yesterday.”

Sam tipped his head. “Stubbornness is kind of our thing,” he admitted, nodding.

Kara’s chuckle had a bit less worry in it then. “Damn right.” Kacey looked towards her and she smiled back. One thing did feel nice, and that was having the whole issue out in the open. And solved, maybe, if she wanted to believe them.

She’d have a week to make sure.

ooo

After a slow day in a small hospital bay, nothing but a sick child at hand, they both looked to Cottle with a kind of gratitude the next morning when he said that Kacey could be released.

“But don’t you dare let her do anything strenuous,” he said.

Walking down Galactica’s quarters, Kacey in his arms and Kara at his side, Sam felt a greater relief than any he had received in the past days. He had noticed Kara going restless during the waiting, and though he knew their reasons were probably different, he had to sympathize.

“So now what?” he asked, thinking about where they were going.

“As if I know?” Kara answered. “I don’t know, what do parents do with their children all day?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Sam admitted.

At least they had that in common, but before Kara could say anything else, Sam saw her frown. He followed her gaze and saw a few personnel pass by, staring openly and with a dirty look in that stare. Unconsciously, he gripped tighter to Kacey.

Even Kara’s strong glare didn’t dissuade their stare until they had passed each other.

“Frak that,” Kara muttered.

Sam should have guessed it wouldn’t be that easy. They barely made it back to their quarters before Helo made a call, said the news was all over Galactica by now. “It’s a very good thing you have the admiral’s support,” Helo sighed over the phone.

“I would guess that,” Sam answered, nodding. He hung up, but told Kara the words.

“Well, we knew that was coming too. Ishay probably spread it,” she said, sitting sprawled on the couch with Kacey, taking advantage of the first comfortable resting place since those few days of sitting in hospital chairs. “If they use any brains at all, they’ll remember that this isn’t a new kid.”

“So you think they have brains now?” Sam asked, scooting next to her on the couch and putting his hand up over her shoulder.

“Maybe. No. But they accepted Sharon because they got to know her, and Kacey’s a whole lot easier in that regard. She’s not really one of them.” Kara shifted a little until she fitted closer to him.

“Well, at least some of the security force will be on our side,” Sam said, remembering his people.

But Kara’s noncommittal ‘hmm’ at that proved to be more accurate than she knew. Sam went to collect the laundry the next day, and saw a group headed towards the hangar. “Jean,” he said, recognizing his old partner in the resistance. “You headed somewhere?”

“The planet,” she answered, but didn’t give him a smile.

“Something wrong?” he asked, pausing.

She gave him a look he couldn’t quite read, but dropped out of her group to stand still. No one else was in the hall. “Yeah, something’s wrong.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of her tone, or the way her arms folded across her chest almost defensively. He had a gut feeling that he wouldn’t like the answer, but he had to ask. “Something I’ve done, right?”

“Sam, you saw the way the cylons manipulated us more than anyone,” Jean said, voice low but sharp. “You saw the way they always had something underhanded going on. Gods, Sam, we fought them for years! And now, now you’re playing into their hands and you don’t even care?”

“Jean, it’s not that,” Sam said, keeping his own voice quiet. “Kacey didn’t put herself in our lives, she was a victim that we rescued. The only thing to worry about is what the cylons were going to do to her, not what she’s planning to do to us.”

“You can’t know that, Sam,” Jean said harshly, looking him straight in the eye. “You don’t know if she’ll be drawn to them, if they can somehow track her, if maybe she’s been programmed to do something only after she gains your trust.”

“Jean, she’s a frakking child,” Sam exclaimed, brow drawing tightly as his own arms crossed. He should have seen this coming, but he wanted to think they were close. Maybe too much had happened since the resistance. “I trusted you with her, you watched her. She’s like any other child, right?”

“Well of course that’s what she would be like,” Jean snapped back. “That would be the best plan, wouldn’t it? Sam, you have no proof. You’re taking it all on faith, just because of Kara, and I didn’t expect that of you.”

“Jean, I have lived with and for that child for eight months,” Sam said, keeping his voice calm with effort. “Don’t frakking tell me that I don’t know what she is or isn’t. She is not programmed. Just like Athena’s not. And gods, Jean, if we had any friendship at all, you wouldn’t bring up Kara as if it mattered that Kacey’s not biologically ours.”

“Okay, I get it,” Jean muttered, dropping her eyes for a second. “But Sam, I don’t trust it. After all that’s happened, after all they did to us, I can’t.” She looked back up at him, and Sam understood the deep hurt in her eyes—but he couldn’t agree.

“That’s it, then,” he said quietly.

Jean walked off down the hall, but Sam knew this wouldn’t be the last time. Maybe not again with Jean, but it would just be someone else. The fleet had every reason to hate the cylons, and with the resistance, even more reason to be frightened of their obsession with children. But gods, that didn’t apply to Kacey. It couldn’t, not after all they’d gone through.

But he returned sober to his and Kara’s chambers, and had to wonder how much the president and the admiral had revealed of their thoughts.

ooo

No one talked to Kara over the next couple days. Granted, she had nothing much to leave her quarters for, but she felt the silence nonetheless. And somehow, it seemed worse than the stories Sam relayed in short words, a frown on his face.

Chief called the next day, on official business. Lee had given him Sam’s job for the moment, keeping track of the civilian work, even though he’d have to return to the ship in a day or so to supervise some essential repairs. He asked for advice, and yet when it was done, there was more to say.

“He said that Cally’s conflicted,” Sam reported, ignoring the food on his plate as they sat absently that evening. “He’s worried for her.”

“How hard can it be to just accept that she’s the same kid they all know?” Kara asked bitterly. “And for the gods’ sake, it’s not like she’s a spy, pretending to be one of us after she planned genocide.”

She looked down at where Kacey was in her lap, slowly eating the food they’d prepared. The last bit before it would be all algae.

“It’s only been a little while, though,” Sam said, even though his sigh didn’t sound hopeful. “And it’s not like it wasn’t a shock to me in the beginning.”

Kara nodded. But after all this time, she could barely remember the horror of then. She couldn’t sympathize with it, not when it was her child they were dismissing.

She wondered, too, if she and Sam were being treated as pariahs. This wasn’t just a break to cool down and make sure Kacey was well. This was to separate them from the rest of humanity because they weren’t quite the same anymore. Kara felt it the moment Athena came by later, the moment the air in the room lightened a moment. Athena offered hope, but as soon as she was gone there seemed little weight to it.

Especially when Roslin herself came. Kara didn’t let her in, just stood at the hatch with Kacey in her arms—she barely managed pleasantries before slipping into her purpose. Her face looked so honestly curious, but Kara knew how sharp and shrewd her mind could be when it focused on a purpose.

“And she has been recovering normally?” the president asked, looking down at Kacey, who clung to Kara and peeked out at this stranger from under her blonde curls.

“As expected, yes,” Kara said, holding in her temper because she still wanted to respect Roslin, even after the near-breach of trust.

“So you’ve never noticed anything different about her?” Roslin asked curiously, nodding. She offered a small smile to Kacey.

“You know, frak you,” Kara said simply. Roslin glanced up. “She’s been exactly the way all kids are; an annoying, frustrating little ball of chaos. She’s also mine, and so I happen to think she’s cute regardless, but that’s pretty normal too. Are you going to back off or not?”

Roslin didn’t back down. Her smile became more knowing, and she held Kara’s gaze for a moment. “We are supporting you and Mr. Anders, Captain. And though it was a difficult concept, we consider it a good thing that this child should be raised where she is so fiercely protected, and among good people. I suggest that you accept that fact, and not see every move of ours as an attack.”

A part of Kara wanted to accept the offer. But she said evenly, “And how long will that last before there’s a mysterious death like last time.”

Roslin’s eyes narrowed. “Sharon Agathon may be your friend, Captain, but do not mistake grief and its filters for accurate assumptions. I assure you, Hera Agathon was not killed, nor if I considered that necessary would it have been done in so underhanded a way. My word stands with the admiral’s: your child is safe in this fleet.”

“Well, you might want to talk to your constituents about that,” Sam’s dry voice came from behind, as he returned to the chambers. “They don’t seem too convinced.”

Roslin stepped outside for him to enter the room, and eyed them both for a second. She raised an eyebrow. “Remember, Mr. Anders, that we are on the run from the cylons. In the end, true justice is sometimes difficult to accept when safety is the greatest concern.”

“Exactly why we aren’t quite ready for this trust you seem to want,” Kara said, and smiled tightly. “Have a nice day, won’t you, Madame President?”

“Bye,” said Kacey, and waved her hand as Kara closed the hatch on the president.

“Tough day?” Sam asked, bending down to kiss her cheek.

“Kacey’s got a chest cold hanging around still, and the president wants to know if she’s got magic cylon powers,” Kara said flatly, but leaned into his kiss a little before he let go. “You know, this part of parenting is not my favorite.”

“You have a favorite part, really?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

Kara sighed and walked past him, Kacey still in her arms. “Make dinner, won’t you?” she sighed, and sat on the couch. “Kacey’s not so bad when I don’t have to focus on her every moment.”

“I’m sure Kacey loves you too,” Sam said dryly over his shoulder, unpacking the algae he’d just brought back.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about love,” Kara pointed out, readjusting Kacey so her elbow didn’t poke her in the stomach. “There’s no denying that she can be a pain. That’s part of love, and gods know why, but I do care for her a frakking lot.”

“Love Mama,” Kacey rasped, pressing the palm of her hand on Kara’s nose with a little smile.

Sam chuckled and brought over the algae mash he’d given as much flavoring as he had. “I know, same here—it’s a bit weird sometimes.” Kara frowned, and even in the safety of their quarters, she was still too tired and frustrated with the world for much of this. “Well, it wasn’t exactly the easiest relationship, us and Kacey,” he amended.

Kara looked down at where Kacey was twisting her mouth, shaking her spoon of algae all over Kara’s leg. “Right.”

For all that she was glad that Kacey was here and safe, though, she was more than ready to get back to the usual.

ooo

The next morning, as Kacey’s breathing still had a wheeze, Sam suggested the traditional option. “It’s not as if we don’t have time,” he said.

“Or hands enough,” Kara answered, and started gathering the necessary objects.

A steam treatment would need two to run, especially given the iffy heating sometimes in Galactica’s heads. Sam carried Kacey and a thermometer, Kara the towels and the herbal additive, and thankfully no one in the hallways gave them even a moment’s look. The head itself was deserted in the shower section at this time, and Kara arranged one of the stalls as Sam tried to adjust the spray.

“The temperature’s coming out too cool,” he said after a test pulse. Slightly sighing, he walked around to the back of the showers, and tried to find the right pipe control, managing only to clunk the pipes in the process. Then he noticed the problem. “Damn,” he muttered.

“Locked for rationing purposes, right?” He could almost hear Kara’s eye roll, even through the walls. He did hear her say, “Stay,” once, before walking around to join him.

He frowned at the control panel attached to the temperature valve as she approached. Kara gave him a look, then pulled out her gun and slammed the back end of it into the panel. It sparked and released control.

“Nice trick,” Sam said with a little smile.

“I like my hot showers,” Kara answered.

As they walked around to the shower stalls, though, Kara stopped and frowned. Kacey’s towel was gone.

“Kace?” she called, walking the next few steps quickly.

Sam saw the shower stall before her, though. He whipped his head around the room, catching no sight. “Kacey?” he called, throat tight.

“Kacey honey, where are you?” Kara called, desperation causing the words to catch in her throat as she walked a few steps forward, and then back.

“No,” Sam started, heart pounding as he knew what this was. “No, no, no, no.”

He was at Kara’s side just as she reached him, and he could almost see the cold that must be gripping her heart, the way her eyes reflected it to him. It was New Caprica all over again, when Kara had just slipped from his fingers with no trace. He hadn’t been able to stop it the last time; he was ready to kill to prevent it now.

Kara’s eyes darted around the head one last time.

“She’s not here,” Sam said, and his hand clenched. “Frak, Kara, she’s not—”

“She’s not Hera,” Kara muttered, and he knew then that she’d already followed the thought to its conclusion. Her hand wavered at her side, her pistol always at the ready. “She is not going to be another martyr to someone’s idiotic idea of justice,” she spat.

They darted for the nearest exit, but the few people in the halls just looked confused, and walked calmly on their ways.

“Frak!” Kara exclaimed, pitch bordering on the high with all the emotion.

A moment passed while they just stood, and the helplessness threatened to strike. The ship was huge, the fleet was huge, how could they find just one small person who someone didn’t want them to find? But as Sam saw the mess of feelings and thoughts all plain over Kara’s face, he realized that they needed to find out who before where.

He saw a phone, then, and rushed towards it. “I need the number for Colonial One,” he said quickly, and Kara nodded and gave it to him.  
_  
“This is the president’s office,” _Tory’s cool voice came through, loud enough for Kara to hear, so close was she standing to Sam.

“Where’s Kacey?” Kara demanded sharply, also loud enough to be heard through the phone.  
_  
“Captain Thrace?”_ Tory answered, sounding surprised.

“Who is this, and where’s the president?” Kara demanded.

“Wait,” Sam said, putting up his hand. “Tory, this is Sam.” He felt his hand starting to shake and he closed it into a fist, knowing that it would just be a moment before he could put a weapon in it, still it for good.  
_  
“Sam, what is it?” _Tory asked, sounding just as surprised to hear from him.

“Listen carefully,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. Kara’s jaw was tight, and she punched the wall as she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “After all we went through for the resistance on New Caprica, I hope you know me a little. So if you care about anything at all, you will tell me the truth right now. My daughter was just kidnapped right out from under my nose, and I know for a fact that your president suspected her for being a half cylon.”

Kara opened her eyes again, and Sam met hers. “Tell me right now, Tory, is Kacey on Colonial One?” He knew, and Kara knew, and Tory would know—what he was really asking was whether they’d have to board it through force or whether it would be a waste of time. No games now.  
_  
“Sam, I’m sorry,_” Tory said, voice clearly shocked, _“but that can’t be possible. If your child was taken, then it was by someone else. The president has been reluctant, but she’s never said anything to indicate that she regretted signing the diplomatic immunity. I’m sorry Sam, I don’t have anything for you, but maybe if I call the admiral...”   
_  
“That’s good enough,” Sam said, and hung up the phone with a swift click.

“Frak,” Kara said again, face pale and eyes lit dangerously. She was almost at the end of her rope already, and they had nothing.

“Look, she’s got to be on Galactica, they can’t have gotten her off yet,” Sam said, trying desperately to find something to think other than _Got to get her back, got to get her back, oh gods no, not again_. “Chief’s back,” he said, remembering suddenly.

“Chief would know,” Kara said, nodding. She unlocked her holster and started to turn.

“Wait,” Sam said, putting a hand to her arm. When she looked at him, he gave her a grim look. “I need a gun. If Chief knows anything, I’m not wasting any time.”

He didn’t have to ask where the nearest armory was, nor why Kara added another gun to her hip before they were off down the hall and headed towards the nearest bay. He’d seen it in her eyes just now, like when she’d first come back from New Caprica—Kara wasn’t going to let anyone mess with what was hers, no matter what. And gods help him if he wasn’t still completely on her side. But this time they’d touched what was his own too, and it didn’t matter that they wouldn’t be cylons because he didn’t care. They had an enemy to face.


	13. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Finding Chief in the hangar had never taken quite so long. He wasn’t standing anywhere giving orders, and after looking under each bird being repaired, Kara was about ready to call a bomb threat to bring him out of hiding. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes to find the frakking chief of the deck. Then Sam gripped her arm, and they darted through a group carrying pipes to a Raptor to where a familiar figure stood by another.

Chief’s face drained of blood the moment Sam gave him the news, and for all that he might have been apprehensive along with Cally, this was beyond the pale. He was a father—that would come first in his mind at this moment. “You’re sure?” he said, stepping closer to them. “They took your kid?”

“Did you hear anything, from anyone?” Kara demanded, every second weighing on her.

“Nothing about you,” Chief said, shaking his head. But as Kara was about to turn to Sam, tell him they had other places to search, he continued. “Just that—there’s an anti-cylon group that’s been fussing ever since the exodus. And as far as I can tell, they’re big down in Dogsville, but I swear there’s been nothing—”

Kara didn’t care for probability right now. “That’s fine, Chief.” She cocked her gun.

“Good luck,” he called as they started off.

They would need it, but it wasn’t what Kara wanted to hear. She saw Sam rechecking his gun as they ran to make sure it was loaded.

Dogsville was a ways off, and even with the civilian efforts on the algae planet below, all the pathways were still blocked with crowds trying to get through. Kara and Sam were both slightly breathless as they caught up to the first clog, having to slam to a halt as people maneuvered their way through unwieldy corridors. A ticking clock might have been hanging over their head, as Kara tried to spot the nearest way in. As she did, Sam was tall enough to find little resistance, but they were still moving too slow.

“Make a hole!” Kara snapped as loud as she could, and suddenly the people seemed to notice the guns in their hands.

Sam had his pointed up in the air, but Kara needed to get through more than she needed safety, and let the people part before her at the sight of her gun barrel. More than a few people gasped and darted back, but though Kara’s eyes scanned back and forth, she saw no dirty looks. They got through the squeeze point at last.

Dogsville was a mess of shoddy housing and chaos, people everywhere and everywhere disorganized. Sam’s face was hard as a rock as they darted among the aisles, but Kara felt only a maddening desperation, and knew it showed on her face. But there were no clues, no leads, and she only barely resisted the urge to wave the gun around.

At first she kept seeing blonde haired children, and gods there were too many of them here. Every child’s cry that was added to the noisy chaos had her gun up, trigger at hand. The walls of the tent city were too tall to see over, even for Sam. Kara left his side for a second, turning around corners, looking for a lead. Anything. All she saw was the pathetic life New Caprica had left for these people.

She met Sam halfway across, stopping in an intersection to catch a moment of thought. Dogsville was a big place, but not big enough for a group to hide. Yet, this group wouldn’t have to hide long, not when they already had their goal. Every second could mean something worse for Kacey, and Kara saw the fear in Sam’s eyes. It had been a half hour already and they had nothing.

Then in a moment of rage and panic mingled together, she saw a pamphlet on the floor, a new rendition of something too familiar. ‘The cylons are our enemy, no matter who...’

Sam was up behind her in a second, and they caught sight of the man in the tent only moments after connecting where the pamphlet had come from. He was large, his round face sweaty and lined. It paled the moment Kara set eyes on him, and in two steps she was up at his side. She grabbed his shoulder, slammed him up against the nearest tent pole, and placed her elbow at his neck.

Sam’s gun came out a second later, and he pressed the tip of it right against the man’s forehead. “Plan to kidnap a little girl because she was half-cylon?” he asked hotly.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” the man begged, “Gods, don’t! I didn’t—I didn’t have anything to do with it! I didn’t even know for sure!”

“I don’t give a frak what you don’t know, I only care what you do,” Sam said, using his gun to slam the man’s head back against the pole.

“Talk or die,” Kara said sharply.

For all that he was nearly twice her size, the man was trembling, eyes frantic. Maybe he was hoping for back-up, but Kara jabbed her elbow into his neck, and his eyes started to bulge out in fear. “Unused compartment!” he said, almost a squeak. “That way—that’s where they had meetings, no one ever went there. Off causeway G, that’s all!”

Kara let him drop, not even watching him slump as she wheeled on her foot, starting to run off through this godsawful hole. If he hadn’t been telling the truth she would make him eat that gun—but not before he was begging for it. Every drop of her blood was running hot, and her adrenaline was higher than even the fastest Viper encounter. Sam and his long legs ran the distance faster, but only just barely.

The few extra precious minutes it took to locate the causeway only added to the determination that Kara would do just about anything now. Finally they darted past a crowd near the opening of the causeway. It was dark and narrow, ceiling low. A man stood in their way halfway down. “Wait a—”

Sam, a step ahead, pistol-whipped him before he got another word out. He dropped, and Kara stepped over the body and didn’t look back. She didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d first got the news, but she wasn’t going to waste time. There were three hatches, none locked.

She spun the first open with a jerk, found nothing, and the second was already open. Jaw tight in frustration, she saw the last one at the end.

She shared a brief glance with Sam before he spun the hatch fast, yanking it open. Kara turned in first, guns high before she even saw inside, Sam right on her heels.

A crowd of a few men and women stood in a close circle, and Kara saw the guns at their sides just after their startled looks as they turned to see Kara and Sam. But before they could recall the fact, before they could do more than dart their hands to their sides, Sam had taken a few more steps forward. He hadn’t grabbed a pistol, and the large gun pointed straight at their faces. “Uh-uh,” he said sharply, nodding to the guns. He waved the tip of his gun a little, and Kara remembered the first time she’d seen that look in his eyes as he did that—back when they all could have been cylons, for all they knew.

The group clearly didn’t trust themselves, and started gingerly placing their weapons on the ground. Kara felt on edge again, because this hadn’t solved anything, and then in one glance around the room she saw the large chest in the corner.

“Sam,” she barely got out, before taking the few steps over to it, heart pounding as she realized that they could have done anything. But when she flipped open the lid, there was Kacey. Alive. Curled up and weeping, but thank the gods she was alive. “Kacey—” Kara’s voice broke, and Kacey barely looked up before she was clinging to Kara.

Sam let his gaze stray for a moment to look back at them, but as Kara lifted Kacey out, one gun back in her holster so she had a free arm, he turned back to the group he still held at gun point.

“So we’re trying to be cylons now, are we?” he asked, voice full of revulsion.

“What blasphemy is that?” demanded the man at the head of the group, but with his gun on the floor he didn’t put enough indignance in it.

Kara’s world was centered again with Kacey back in her arms, but her blood still ran hot. “Who were the ones who captured people and held them captive, on Caprica, on New Caprica?” she asked, sending a glare as she raised her gun to join Sam’s in keeping them at bay. “Cylons, that’s who.”

“You mean the ones you’re doing dirty work for now?” sneered one of the women.

Kara only paused to turn Kacey’s face away before she let loose a bullet straight into the woman’s shoulder. The woman, caught at short range, flew back into the person behind her, gasping and collapsing to the floor. “This child is my child, mine,” Kara said coldly. “Not the cylons’. And if you’ve gone so far that you can’t see that, you don’t even deserve to live.”

“Hold up there!” came a sharp voice from behind them.

Kara barely had the presence of mind to recognize Borgen as he turned in the room, and at least two of the three marines he had were Sam’s, she knew. Weapons at the ready, she realized that Tory must not have been joking about calling in the admiral. But it was even more clear in a second.

“Chief told us about the kidnapping,” Borgen said, breathing a little hard as his men stepped forward to keep guard on the kidnappers. The shot woman was making a lot of noise as two of her comrades stopped the bleeding. Borgen looked on them all with distaste.

“She shot me!” the woman managed, pointing her good arm towards Kara.

Borgen looked at Sam for a good long second, then at Kara. She saw solidarity in those eyes, and knew he could judge both why her gun was still aimed and her arm still wrapped around Kacey, and make a decision on what that meant. “Accidental discharge of weaponry, Captain?” he asked pointedly, with a cool tone.

Kara looked him straight in the eye as she nodded slowly.

“Right,” Borgen nodded back. “I’ll make a note.”

“You don’t believe her!” one of the men cried out.

“Shut up,” Borgen said disgustedly, turning his head back to them. “What I don’t believe is how you filth could manage to last this long without anyone turning you in. Anders, Captain Thrace, we need to take these people into custody for kidnapping and assault. If you’ll just wait outside, I’ll take your statements in a minute and then you can go.”

Her heart pounding less as each moment passed, Kara had nothing to say. She tucked her second gun in her belt, putting both arms around Kacey as she headed for the hatch. Sam paused to share a couple glances with Gardina and Cocherol, who seemed to stand ready to defend—maybe not all cylon children, but definitely his.

And then they were out in the corridor again, and almost out to Dogsville, and Kacey wasn’t dead. Kara hadn’t even gotten to kill anyone, and yet it almost felt like a perfect ending.

ooo

The moment they made it into the light of Dogsville, Sam dropped his gun and turned, gathering Kara and Kacey into his arms in a fierce hug. His anger started to melt away at the touch. “Oh baby,” he said, then asked, “Is she all right?”

He let them go for a second, as Kara turned to look more closely at their child. “You all right?” she asked. Kacey, tear streaked face aside, nodded and wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck.

“Is Kacey safe?” came another voice calling across Dogsville, and Sam turned to see Sharon running up, hand on holster and determined eyes. “Karl heard when the president’s office informed the admiral,” she explained.

“Kacey?” said yet another voice, but as they all turned, none of them seemed to recognize this. A blonde woman stepped out from the crowds that had backed away from this area of Dogsville, and she stepped forward with a shocked look on her face. “Oh my gods, Kacey?”

“Who the hell are you?” Kara demanded first, and Sam saw her grip on Kacey grow closer.

But Kacey had turned her head at the sound of the voice too, and of all of them, Sam realized, she had the least confusion on her face. “Ma-ma?” she said then, hesitant.

Sam jolted, and Kara looked down at Kacey with a sudden panic on her face.

“Oh yes, Kacey, it’s mama,” the woman said, oblivious to Kara and Sam as she came forward smiling, arms outstretched and tears in her eyes.

“No, stop,” Kara said, pulling herself together in an instant and drawing out her gun again.

Sam caught one last glimpse of Kacey’s face, almost happy but confused, before he too turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, but this is our child,” he said, stepping in close to Kara but not picking up his own gun where it lay.

The woman’s eyes had gone wide on seeing the raised gun, and she looked petite, but she managed to protest strongly, “No, no, she can’t be. I know—she looks just like her, and she’s the right age, and the name—my Kacey! When the cylons took her on New Caprica, I thought—” She broke off.

Again, Kara had the first words as Sam’s heart hit him with foreboding. “What did you say?” she asked, tone low, face starting to lose color again. Her pistol didn’t waver, but it lowered an inch.

Sharon had stepped back a pace, the other crowd stepped in, and the audience was too much. “They took my daughter on New Caprica,” the woman explained, teary eyed still but earnest. “But that’s her, that’s my daughter.”

Sam suddenly felt doubt and desperation again, and he had nothing to base it on—he didn’t know anything of this.

“What’s going on now?” asked Borgen as he stepped out of the causeway, his marines following with the bound kidnappers. He frowned at the scene in front of him, gun raised again but this time against a crying woman.

She turned quickly to him, “Sir, sir,” she started. “My name’s Julia Brynn, but I know that’s my missing daughter.”

“You can’t be serious,” Borgen answered, crossing his arms across his chest. “Everyone knows—”

“I don’t care what they think they know,” Julia interrupted, tears welling again. “Just look at her! Kacey, you remember me, remember your mother?” She stepped forward, Kara’s gun arm dropping the rest of the way as she did so.

Sam saw Kara’s face completely open, as if she had nothing to grasp onto. And the ground he was standing on seemed to fall away as he saw Kacey waver.

“Ma-ma?” she asked, slow and unsteady still, but it was enough.

Julia smiled through her tears and put out a hand to Kacey. Kacey didn’t respond immediately either way.

“This can’t be happening,” Sam finally said, knowing he was lost.

“Please, can I just hold her?” Julia asked, stepping closer to Kara.

Kara didn’t seem to have an answer, and so when Kacey tentatively put out a hand to Julia, Julia stepped in the last step to reach for her and Kara just let her arms drop. Julia practically caught Kacey in her arms.

“Oh Kacey,” she said, face bright again as she hugged the child.

And Sam just watched, just watched as Kacey seemed to hug Julia back. But Kacey wasn’t hers, even with all of this. All this time, that one thing had remained the same, and he couldn’t just have it dashed with so poor of evidence.

Borgen stood with just as much confusion, and concern too, but with a clearer duty. “I’m going to have to call in the president on this.”

Sam breathed out slowly, put his hand on Kara’s shoulder. They couldn’t drag their eyes away from what was right in front of them. Kara reached up and gripped his hand so tight that he could have sworn his bones would break. But it didn’t matter.

ooo

With all the commotion, Adama and Roslin both came down personally to address the situation. Meanwhile, Kacey was taken away to have Cottle give her a check-up, make sure she hadn’t been hurt or drugged.

“Why don’t you tell us your story,” Roslin said to Julia, who seemed to alternate between stubbornness and being on the verge of tears.

Kara stood off with Sam during the whole thing, feeling like she was curling up on herself inside, but only so that she might strike out with more force. This was another obstacle that didn’t need to be there. And it reminded her how much she hated having her heart played with. For so long she’d kept it close, until finally Sam had been allowed in, and it had hurt like hell when she couldn’t get him back. As soon as he was, she kept him close at hand. But now Kacey had been let in too, and Kara didn’t want that piece of her ripped away.

Julia’s story didn’t help. She’d been on Caprica when the bombs fell, and could barely remember anything before she was captured. She’d been in one of the farms, and she wouldn’t speak of all they did, only that she had been set free by the resistance—and here she looked to Sam. By the time she realized that she was pregnant, she had tried to push all her memories of the cylons away. She bore Kacey all the way to New Caprica, where Kacey was born three months after the settlement. Nine months later, she heard the cylons attack, and couldn’t remember what happened when she got back to her tent, only that she woke collapsed on the floor and Kacey was gone.

It wasn’t a lie. That much they could all tell. The lie had been Leoben telling Kara that the woman who bore Kacey had died in childbirth. Maybe he had tried to kill Julia when he knocked her out, but still.

“We had our doctors examine Kacey only recently,” Adama explained, hands clasped as he stood by Roslin. “She is certainly related to Kara Thrace, but she also bears the same markers as the half-cylon child Hera Agathon.”

“But what does that mean?” Julia asked, protesting. “I’m her mother—I gave birth to her, I raised her.”

Kara couldn’t stay silent. “What is that supposed to mean? She’s my child, a part of me. You gave up on her, you abandoned her, and now after she has a place and a family you just want her back?”

“So you’re saying that because she’s not naturally mine that nothing that happened counted?” Julia said, giving her a dark eye, arms starting to cross defensively over her chest. “Then you know nothing of motherhood, and in that case, he isn’t even Kacey’s father.” She pointed sharply at Sam.

“We’re not saying anything yet, Ms. Brynn,” Adama put in before Kara or Sam could say anything.

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Roslin said to all three, giving a look to Adama as she stepped to the side.

The crowd had mostly faded away by then, the drama too sharp for most of them. It was too quiet for a few seconds.

“This is some kind of cruel joke,” Julia said, putting a hand to her head as if it pained her. “To not even let me have my own child?”

“Will you get your head out of your ass and stop being blind?” Kara started, snappier than she’d planned in her head. She stepped closer to Julia, and ignored Sam’s light touch on her arm, and her words came out sharp. “Kacey isn’t just—she is my daughter, and I have given up almost everything for her. Because she’s a half cylon, even though she’s just a child, that makes her a target in this fleet. But I have shot for her, and killed for her, and kept that secret, and I have spent nights worrying what might happen to her for eight months, and yet you think you are her mother?”

“I love Kacey,” Julia said strongly, right up in Kara’s face even as she started to break down. “I thought my heart died on the day I couldn’t find her. She was all I had!”

“She still is almost all I have,” answered Kara, no less powerfully but not pushing back. “She’s not some toy I’ve been borrowing and can return just because you had her first. Did you even know her? She was just a child to you, you don’t even understand the danger she will always, always be in.”

Julia just turned away, gasping back a broken cry as she brought her hands to her face. She sat down nearby, and Kara couldn’t find it in her to approach her again.

ooo

The pain was finally too much for Sam. As Julia stepped out of the way, he moved closer to Kara, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Sam, this—” she started, turning to face him. The lost look killed him.

“I know,” he said, but his voice cracked a little. He stooped and took her into his arms for a second, hugging her tightly enough that they swayed for a moment. The president and the admiral were still talking quietly with themselves, but Sam knew that this couldn’t be argued out. They couldn’t make it a fight without ruining everything.

And yet, he felt a hot tear of Kara’s soak through his tank, and he kissed just by her ear before he loosened the hug. Something had to be said, and he thought he had a hold on himself, enough that he could do it.

Kara sat down, harshly rubbing her eye as if a piece of dust had been lodged there, refusing to look up. Sam took a step forward towards Julia, and swallowed. “Ms. Brynn?”

“What now?” she asked bitterly, looking up at him with conflict in her eyes.

He felt that he was towering over her, and awkwardly took a seat nearby “No one’s actually against you right now,” he explained, the words coming out stilted at first. He took a breath and continued, “The point of all of this is...the cylons manipulated all of us. You by making you carry a child you didn’t ask for, then Kara by telling her you had died in childbirth. All of us believed some kind of lie, but it wasn’t our fault.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Julia asked confused, hand rubbing at her upper lip as she sniffed a little.

Sam paused, not knowing how to get his point across without a lot of extra words. “Well, what it comes down to is that all of that doesn’t really matter. Kara and I, we’ve always known Kacey wasn’t going to have an easy life. We knew what she was and that didn’t matter, but it could mean anything. Maybe she can project, or download, we don’t know.” Sam couldn’t hold back a grimace at the thought, but it was just the fear of the unknown.

“That’s not possible,” Julia said, shaking her head. “She’s just a child, a human child.”

“Half human,” Sam said quietly. “Maybe that won’t make a difference with her, but it will with the rest of the fleet. Do you know what just happened, why we’re down here? A group kidnapped her in a public place, and who knows what they were going to do with her.” He stopped and clenched his fist, glancing away from Julia’s face. “Look,” he said, turning back with a settled expression. “We don’t care what exactly she is, we’re going to be right there to make sure that Kacey is safe. Just like today. And I don’t know—I don’t know exactly why I’m telling you this, except so that you know... We’re always going to be Kacey’s parents, even if she’s not with us. We’d watch over her. I don’t know what else we could do at this point. Because it’s still not going to be safe.”

He had to break off as he saw Cottle approaching with Kacey in his arms. Everyone looked up, Adama and Roslin included. The doctor came forward, a neutral expression on his face as he announced, “She’s in good condition, they didn’t do anything.” Then, as he set Kacey down, “Go on, go to your mother.” He looked up a moment later, chagrin on his face as he realized the error.

Kacey toddled over to Kara before he could say anything, though, only looking back over her shoulder once she got there. Sam couldn’t help how his heart clenched with satisfaction as Kara helped Kacey up on her lap, but he looked back to Julia and saw something break in her eyes.

And then, like he’d seen in so many others, he saw her rearrange all the pieces and put determination into them. Kacey looked back, confused and hesitant, but it didn’t fix what had happened.

Roslin and Adama finally finished their discussion and returned to the group. “Ms. Brynn,” Adama began.

“No, wait,” Julia said, putting up her hand for him to pause. She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and wiped her face, then stood. Sam hesitantly followed. “Mr. Anders,” she said, looking to him, “I need to say this now before it’s too late—I can’t do this.”

He didn’t have much confusion, but he was glad when she spoke again.

“I always knew that something would happen to Kacey, and she would be taken away just like she had been given to me. I’m not saying it made it easier when she disappeared, but I wasn’t shocked. But Kacey—” Julia stopped, and her gaze went past Sam to linger on where Kara sat, arms round Kacey even as she watched carefully what was happening a few feet away. “I want my daughter back, the one who was simple and sweet and loved only me. And I’m never going to get her back.” Julia’s composure broke a second, and she pressed the handkerchief to her lips.

Sam wanted to say something like ‘we never meant this to happen’, but he felt that it would hurt her more.

“The cylons took my daughter, and you got someone else,” Julia said, looking him in the eyes. “It’s going to break my heart even more if my Kacey is gone for good, if I’m constantly having to worry about her safety, and if I’m never really sure if she thinks of me as her mother. I want to do that, gods I just want her back—but I know I can’t. So, Admiral,” she said, turning to Adama but saying the words quietly. “I would like to withdraw my claim on Kacey.”

“Withdrawal accepted,” Adama answered kindly, his tone also low.

Kara was standing up, and even though Sam had almost seen this coming, it hit him hard in the moment. “Ms. Brynn—” he started, but words failed him and he had to bite back the rambling that was emotion. “You can’t imagine—” he started again, then remembered that she was barely making it through this.

But Julia forced a smile and wiped her eyes again. “No, I think I can imagine a little.” She hesitantly offered a hand, and Sam reached to clasp it with gratitude, respect, in his eyes since he couldn’t find the words. “You’ll be a good father too,” she said, even as the corner of her mouth trembled. “I couldn’t be that.”

Looking back, Sam saw Kara seem about to say something, but with her heartwrenching choice made, Julia seemed to want to wrap things up in her own way. “May I come and see her sometimes, when I can’t bear it?” she asked.

Kara bit her lip, but nodded honestly. Julia stepped forward, and Sam watched as Kara nudged Kacey towards her. Kacey smiled broadly as she reached out her arms for Julia, and they shared a tight hug for a moment. “Oh baby, you’ve gotten so huge,” Julia said, smiling at Kacey even as she blinked hard. “I’m going to say bye now, okay, and then you can go back to mama?”

Kara managed a small smile as Julia handed Kacey back, and the two women nodded to each other. Then, with a nod to everyone else, and a face of stolidity that was pasted on for their benefit, Julia ducked her head and went back into Dogsville.

A moment of calm silence filled the area, as the crowds finally withdrew fully.

“Is everything settled, then?” Roslin asked.

Now that Julia, and any guilt he might feel, had gone, Sam felt a kind of goofy grin come onto his face. He turned to Kara, saw her face pressed against the crook of Kacey’s neck, saw a sense of rightness in her eyes again.

“Yes sir, I think things will be all right,” Kara said, the beginnings of a smile just starting to appear.

“Well, that should not happen again,” Roslin said pointedly. “I think I will need to talk to Captain Borgen about different security procedures soon.”

“But you two should probably get back to some place safer,” Adama said, nodding with a protective look to Kara and Sam. “I can have extra men assigned to you, if you need them.”

Sam felt on top of things once again, and in his relief he wanted to make a statement. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem once the story of this gets around,” Sam said, nodding towards Kara’s fired gun, the metaphorically smoking one. “Accidental or not.”

Roslin caught the reference and pursed her lips as if holding in a smile. “That’s probably very true, Sam.”

She and the admiral turned to leave, and Sharon was the last one standing there. “I’m glad we weren’t needed,” she said, nodding with relief to both of them.

“Us too, thanks,” Sam said.

And then it was just Kara and Sam and Kacey again as Sharon went back to her duties.

“Hey,” Sam said, not knowing what else to say.

“I hate this sometimes,” Kara admitted with a sigh, even as she still held Kacey close. They turned and started to walk out of Dogsville, not really noticing the wide berth they were given.

“Just not enough to let it go,” Sam said, nodding and knowing just what she meant.

“Not even close,” she muttered, and snaked her free arm around his waist.

He grinned for real then, and managed to keep it all the way back to their quarters.

ooo

There were still a few days left of their suspension from duty, and Kacey was only almost healed. The rest of that day, though, Kara was content to stay locked up in their quarters. Sam made algae broth, trying to flavor it so that it was closer to chicken. Kara couldn’t get Kacey to eat more than a couple sips, and finally handed it back to Sam to put on the table.

“You know, I don’t care what you eat, Kace,” she said and sighed a little, brushing Kacey’s tangled curls out of her face. “Just—” She paused as Sam sat beside her. “I’m sorry we left you alone,” she admitted, feeling a bit of catharsis even now that it was all settled. It hadn’t been the best day.

“Your parents can be morons,” Sam said seriously, leaning in to tickle Kacey’s cheek with one finger. “And I’m sure you’ll remind us when you’re older.”

“Older?” Kara asked, looking skeptically at him.

“It’s going to be a year pretty soon,” Sam said, tipping his head to the side with a smile. “And those’ll add up once we get to Earth.”

Despite the infectiousness of his relieved happiness, Kara turned back to Kacey. “We’re not getting to Earth,” she informed her in a confidential tone. “Your dad’s an optimistic idiot sometimes, okay? Remember that.”

“Yes, but a little hope never hurt anybody, right?” Sam asked, resting his chin on Kara’s shoulder and nuzzling her neck a little. “Besides, I think we’re invincible.”

For all that Kara’s emotions were shot to hell from the day, she bit back a small smile. “Shut up,” she said fondly, and turned to kiss him lightly.

“Hey,” he whispered against her mouth. “We need to at least wait until she’s asleep.”

Kara sighed and leaned her head back against the couch. Her heart hurt, her head hurt, and even Sam’s over-optimism would turn to realism shortly. But here, here was her little world. Maybe it was still small, and maybe it was artificial, but she’d use it as her grounding platform to go out and do what she was meant to do: kick cylon ass, guard the fleet.

And if anyone tried to break in, she would shoot them between the eyes. No one messed with her family and lived.


	14. Meet Your Storm - Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

They still had two days of their suspension left, and it was long enough to iron out the last wrinkles of everything. Of all the people he expected to stop by, Sam had not expected Hurchin and Soera. But Hurchin was stout about it, he didn’t believe a word anyone was saying. Sam cautioned him that it was all true, but Hurchin just shook his head as if Sam hadn’t said anything. But the earnest look he gave was enough, as was Soera’s response.

Kara didn’t know how to deal with Soera and her motherly appearance, least of all when she brought her son with her. But Soera didn’t try to make nice, just gave Kara a straight look. She turned away a moment later to look at the two children arranging their toys on the floor, and said in a quiet voice, “You would think that with only a few thousand people left, any humanity at all would be cherished.”

“Mm,” was all Kara said, and her crossed arms loosened just a little. Soera hadn’t tried to earn Kara’s trust, but she just had, in a way.

Given that the shock of the fleet-wide revelation about Kacey had been so quickly followed by an act of violence, against a child and all, that probably would have been enough to stop most of the dirty looks. Kara gritted her teeth when she saw the stolen broadcast footage that someone had captured of Kacey, though, newly rescued but with tears still wet on her face. “Who there was a damn reporter?” she demanded when Helo showed her the footage, but all he had for her was a shrug.

Yet, it worked. It hardly created more publicity, it just put a face to the facts. And Kacey’s was sweet enough to make it all work. She no longer waved at everyone in the head any time they went, and perhaps clung a little tighter to Kara’s jacket, but people remembered from before.

The next day they were recalled to duty. Sam went down to the planet on the first Raptor, duty calling him to help with the organization. The only CAPs being run were already filled, and so Kara just had to be on call. Realizing that she had no other choice, she took Kacey down to the pilots' ready room with her.

Athena was the first to give her a smile, beckon her to a seat. Narcho and Skulls in particular glared at her from across the tables, with Racetrack just a couple seats down and looking uncomfortable. The rest were in the air, or didn’t give a frak. As long as they didn’t push her buttons or demand the “half-cylon thing” out of their sight, Kara didn’t give one either.

Hot Dog came back from an afternoon CAP later, found Kara sitting by herself in the corner, drowsily sipping a drink as she leaned back in her chair, Kacey napping on her lap.

“So, heard you shot someone,” he said, straddling a chair and leaning his chin on the back.

Kara glared.

“Someone not a cylon,” Hot Dog continued.

Kara’s glare intensified. If he was about to make a comment about Kacey...

“Nice,” he finished with a bold grin, nodding a little. Then he winked and walked off, as if her glare was just what he was looking for.

“Frakking nugget,” Kara muttered under her breath. He was trying too hard to prove that he was on the same level as her, but separate. In principle it wasn’t so bad, but he was being so obvious that it grated. It just happened to grate her the least of most things.

Two days later, though, she was needed to run a quick CAP down to the planet. Handing Kacey off to Soera was not her first choice, but Athena and Helo were too busy, and she couldn’t quite trust anyone left on the ship.

Then they found the temple. Then the cylons arrived.

ooo

Kara seemed about ready to shoot daggers from her eyes when she wasn’t worrying her head off; all Sam hoped was that no one leaked Kacey’s existence to the cylons. The cylons were there for the planet, though, and soon he and Kara were strategizing with the rest of them.

By the time the wireless was jammed, Kacey wasn’t the only thing they had to worry about. “The only way you’re defending this temple is with more numbers than you have,” Sam said as he frowned over the schematic. “Which means civilians.”

“You can do that, though, right?” Lee said.

“Yes,” Sam answered, then stood up and crossed his arms. “But not in the time you’ve given me, with this tactic.”

“This isn’t a long-term war, Sam, this is the only tactic we’ve got,” Lee protested. “We have to defend the temple.”

“Oh come on, Lee, haven’t you read any history at all?” Kara burst in, arms crossed. “There’s more than one way to defend a hill than rows of neatly armed marines.”

Lee raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir, I know you’ve got this one,” Kara answered, and though she almost spat the words, her anger wasn’t at him. “But Sam’s right.”

Lee looked at Dee, who sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “The planet does have good ground for improvisational battle,” she said.

“Exactly,” Sam said.

Lee let his hands rest on the table, staring down at the map. Then he looked up. “Do it then.”

“I’m going to want to borrow a couple of your marines, too,” Sam said, after a nod. “I trained them; a good part of that was for dealing with civilians, so they’ll make it all go faster.”

After that, it was all keeping focused on the action, because that was all they had. Kara even accepted the responsibility of flying point when Dee ordered her to it. Sam had just been going over the last details with his marines and Lee when the news came over the radio. Kara had seen centurions.

Then, _“She’s been hit,”_ Dee’s voice crackled over the radio._ “Repeat, Starbuck’s going down.”  
_  
Sam knew he wasn’t quite thinking coolly at that moment, but it didn’t matter either. Godsdamnit, this was not supposed to keep happening, and he was not going to put up with it anymore. Part of him understood what Lee said next, that they didn’t have time or men enough for a rescue operation.

“Frak you,” Sam snapped at him. “I’m going after my wife!”

“No, Sam, you can’t,” Lee answered sharply, stepping in. “You’re a commander here, I need you keeping the line.”

“No, you know what I can and can’t do?” Sam answered, every word hot as he looked straight down into Lee’s eyes. “I can put my trust in the men I’ve trained to lead from behind, and I can’t go back to Galactica and tell my daughter that this time her mother isn’t coming back.”

Lee’s determination faltered for a second. “Your men aren’t leaders, Sam,” he started.

“You treat them like that, they damn well won’t be,” Sam pushed back. “They can deal with people, they can hold fast. That’s what you’re doing, defending. Now let your mind get the hell around that idea and then go and do it.”

Lee bit down on something, but he stepped back. “If you’re wrong, do you know what’s at stake here?”

“Either way, I’m of no use to you,” Sam stopped to admit, seeing himself even if he couldn’t see straight.

Lee just gritted his jaw, and Sam didn’t think about anything else as he grabbed weapons and was out the door.

He lost track of the terrain, how long it took him to get to outpost 3, how long it took him to tell Fischer and Dee to get back to base camp and how little time it took him to forget again that there was another mission. The last two klicks over to the Raptor, his world spiraled down into something small and desperate. He could see the damage, the smoke, and Kara hadn’t sent any signal since the crash.

Having her almost shoot at him as soon as he entered the Raptor only reassured him long enough to see her face, see the wavering in her grip, and have everything be in pieces again. A morpha shot wouldn’t help this, but it was all he had to give. Kara’s eyes were rolled back in her head from the pain, her body trembling involuntarily for the few seconds before the drug started to kick in. Sam had to check the ship, had to get them out of here.

“Lee let you come?” she asked, sounding almost delirious.

“Wasn’t a matter of ‘let’, Kara,” he answered.

“That’s...my Sam,” Kara said, drifting.

Sam glanced back, worrying if he’d taken too long to get here, if he could get her out in time. “Damn!” he swore to himself, and then gritted his teeth.

“Hey, baby,” he said, low and earnest as he all but scooped Kara in his arms, gently but quickly moving her back up to the pilot console.

Her head rolled a little to the side, but she blinked her eyes open. “Not dead yet,” she muttered.

“We need to get out of here, and I don’t know how to do that,” Sam admitted, holding her gaze. “The ship looks fine except for this; what do I need to do?”

She closed her eyes and swallowed, but he knew the direct words had gotten through somehow. “Means a busted fly-wire is all that—need to use the—the datacord from the comms.”

“How? How, Kara?” Sam insisted.

“Can’t think—shit—” Kara managed, but her eyes flickered. Then as Sam’s hand went for more morpha, she said, “No, no morpha. I can do this, Sam, just—just move me closer to the panel.”

He wouldn’t have admitted it to her, but Kara was lousy at teaching electronics. At least when whacked up on morpha. He electrocuted himself twice before he found the right cords, and even after she got him to use the right hook-ups, the control adjustment was a nightmare. But she didn’t pass out, even once he got the bird into the air.

“Keep a loose grip,” she said, barely more than a whisper as they rose off the ground.

She was right on that—Sam gave her the last shot of morpha before they broke atmosphere, and somehow they managed to get back on the ship. The mission had succeeded, the cylons were gone, and almost everyone was back safe.

Kara barely walked her way out of the Raptor, though, and the trip to Cottle was long and serious. Sam sat by her bed through it all, even as the rubber and leather was ripped from her skin and the burns cleaned out.

“At this point, there’s nothing pointing one way or another on you getting the use of these hands back,” Cottle admitted at the end, as the fresh bandages went on and the highest dose of pain meds had taken full effect. “But don’t ask any more questions; that’s tomorrow’s worry.”

“I’m not sleeping here,” Kara muttered as soon as he’d left.

“Of course not,” Sam said, with a worn smile as he kissed her forehead.

She collapsed on the bed as soon as they got to the quarters, and only then did Sam allow himself to remember Kacey. Soera had her safe and sound, and not as frantic and upset as she could have been. He thanked her soundly, then started back to their quarters.

ooo

The shock of the incident on the planet had worn off a little with the help of the powerful drugs. Kara lay back on the bed, wearily glad that it was quiet and hers and not some random bunk in the pilots’ quarters.

She was not expecting to see more than Sam and Kacey when the hatch opened, and was utterly bewildered to see not only Helo and Athena, but also a child in Athena’s arms.

It all made a little more sense when Sam explained that this was Hera, alive due to the president’s manipulation and the cylons’ vulnerability. By the time Helo had told the rest of the story, Kara was impressed, even if she wasn’t surprised. And now there were two half-cylons on the ship, and they thought there should be some kind of briefing.

But other than noting that Hera was smaller than Kacey, even though she was a little older, Kara didn’t know what there was to say.

“Not surprising,” Helo said in answer to that, and his tone was lighter than Kara’s had heard it since before the attack. “I was a tiny baby,” he explained further.

Kara snorted at that, tired as she was.

The only conclusion to it all was that the fleet would certainly have to accept them now, and that could only be good for everyone in the end. Hera needed to see Cottle again, and so Helo and Athena had to leave. Kacey, who hadn’t slept during the whole mission, clung to Sam with circles under her eyes.

“You both need to sleep,” he said, tucking in Kacey next to Kara. “And I probably should check up on everything else.” He kissed their foreheads, murmuring something about danger and not making it a habit, but Kara didn’t catch it all. Kacey rolled over, finally resting her cheek on Kara’s stomach and loosely wrapping her arms around her, falling to sleep with a thin trail of drool ready to soak Kara’s clean shirt.

But Kara followed her into sleep, mind too tired to have any more thoughts.  
_  
Kacey walked down the hall a few steps, then laughed and started to run. Red plush carpet paved the path her feet traveled, and gold-colored carvings lined each wall, matching the soft gold lights shining down. Shining down bright._

_She ran, but not in fear. Down halls, around corners, towards high doors beyond which a white light shone._

_Kara looked down at herself, and she was glowing bright as the light. Kacey stopped and looked back, a light in her eyes that wasn’t from the chandelier above. The doors opened, but the light didn’t blind Kara. She knew it. She was a part of it._

_She stepped forward, until Kacey was at her side. They looked back again, saw five white figures high on an ornate balcony. One was stepping forward. Kara could wait, she knew._

_But the light was just beyond the doors, and even though her heart seemed to pound in her chest, she knew she had to go through. Somehow she wanted it more than she feared it._

_She took the step. The light seemed to tumble around her like an avalanche._

And then she woke, damp all over with sweat, gasping as if her heart were still racing, and Kacey was screaming and flailing like so many weeks before.

With her bandaged hands, she could barely gather her child into her arms. “Don’t go, mama,” Kacey cried into her chest. “Not now, don’t go.”

“What?” Kara asked. Rarely did Kacey use so many words, and rarely did they give Kara such a sense of meaning.

“No light, no light, not now,” Kacey said again, trembling as she gripped Kara close.

Kara felt herself go all cold as she held Kacey close. How could they? Why had they? And the timing made it all too real.

She sat up, taking long deep breaths, and Kacey started to calm down and fall back asleep. Then a knock at the hatch dragged her mind away from the opera house that she and Kacey couldn’t have dreamed, because Kacey had never been there, and even if this wasn’t a nightmare, they couldn’t be shared like— “Come in,” she called.

It was Karl, and she barely composed her face as he walked over.

“What is it?” she asked.

He knelt down at her side. “Do you have any pictures from your apartment on old Caprica?”

Her heart still pounding from the dream, it took her a moment to hear what he said. “Uh...um...sure, yeah.” Shaking her head a little, she nodded in the direction of the cupboards. “Third from the left, the cigarbox.”

Karl walked over, and rummaged around. Kara pushed everything else away to focus on Karl, the mundane, what made sense. “What are you doing?”

“Just curious,” Karl said without turning around.

“What, about decorating tips?” Kara asked, incredulous.

“No, remember those paintings you did?” Karl asked, finally coming back, and she saw that he had two pictures in his hand, but only one was hers.

“What about ‘em?” Kara asked, brows narrowing, because Karl didn’t seem to make sense now.

He held out a picture, and she could have jerked back, run away. “This was on the Temple. The one that was built over 4,000 years ago. Where’d you get your idea?” The swirl of red and yellow and blue blurred before her eyes, and he didn’t need to hold out both pictures together, because it wasn’t like she could forget.

“It was just a pattern I liked, I’ve always liked,” she said, almost under her breath. The same hint of the unknown was pulling her gaze to the design, as if she could feel that the same bright light was beyond it. The same bright light that she wanted, that Kacey feared more than she did.

“What is it?” Karl asked then, as if noticing that it wasn’t a normal reaction.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, having nothing else. 4,000 years, he’d just said. And no one had seen this temple since then, yet somehow she was connected, and the opera house was another piece. Another piece in what? The first words in her head made her shiver. “Leoben said that I had a destiny,” she said, each word slow and painful. “That it had already been written.”

“Kara, it could just be coincidence,” Karl was quick to jump in with. “Leoben liked mindgames, mixing truth with falsehood, that’s what we were all told.”

“I know that,” Kara said, and looked up at his face. She drew a film of composure over it. “I’m tired, Karl.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this in,” he said, standing up with a sigh. “Take care, Kara. And it probably won’t be anything, you know.”

“Thanks, that helps,” Kara said, managing to sound almost neutral as he half smiled and left the room. She knew better. Whatever Leoben had seen, however he had caught a glimpse of it, it was real. It touched her, it touched Kacey. And she knew, almost trembling with the knowledge, it was beyond this.

When Sam came in moments later, he saw the different kind of apprehension in her eyes. Somehow she found the words to explain it to him, and somehow he seemed to understand her.

“Leoben can’t be right,” Sam started. “A frakking cylon destiny?”

“No, it can’t be that,” Kara said, still holding Kacey and not knowing how it could possibly affect her child. She clenched her jaw. “I’m not letting it be that, I am not being their tool.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We can deal with this, whatever it is.”

Kara looked up, brow still clenched. His gaze was steady into hers, and it didn’t feel like an outsider’s. It didn’t feel like someone just watching. He was in this with her, with them, and so she could believe him. She leaned back against the pillow on the bed. “Yeah, I can handle this.” She let her bandaged hand rest on the back of Kacey’s head, remembering the most relevant point with her family so close. “I’ve got back-up.”

“Always,” said Sam.

It would be true.

—

** _The End_ **


End file.
